Until Angels Close My Eyes
by Bohemian Anne
Summary: In the year 2004, Jack and Rose meet in Perris, California. But there's a twist—Jack has leukemia.
1. Chapter 1

**UNTIL ANGELS CLOSE MY EYES  
Chapter One**

_August 18, 2004  
Perris, California_

The residents of Warbonnett Drive paused in their activities one evening when a large white moving van passed them. Eyes widened with curiosity, following the route of the vehicle until it turned a corner.

"It's about time!" Joanna Gutierrez exclaimed, hopping up from where she sat on her front lawn and running to the curb. "I was wondering if anyone was ever going to move into that place!" She prepared to follow the truck when her friend, Meg Deluche, grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Don't. It's not fair…we'd be spying!" she hissed, and Joanna rolled her eyes.

"What's wrong with a little curiosity now and again?" she asked, shrugging Meg's hand away.

"With you, it's never just a little." Meg sighed, deciding it was probably better to follow Joanna than to argue with her…at least this time. The two girls passed the rows of working class houses, waving every now and again to neighbors who called. At last they reached the house with the Sold sign on the lawn and stood opposite it.

"There's the car," Meg whispered, pointing to the black Mercedes pulling into the driveway. Just as it came to a stop, a familiar blond head came whizzing towards the girls.

"Hey, Dawson, where's the fire?" Joanna called, and the bike screeched to a halt.

"What's up?" he asked, running his fingers through his hair, blowing out his breath. He set his leather portfolio on the handlebars for the moment and tried to stop his heart from racing so quickly. Meg pointed, and Jack followed her finger to the house next door to his own.

"Wow…someone's finally moving in! I thought no one would want to live there after it almost burned down two years ago."

Joanna grinned. "You should stay and introduce yourself," she suggested, but Jack shook his head.

"I would, but I can't…I have to do this scenic portrait for my art class tomorrow, which I haven't even started." Truth be told, he'd been feeling a bit lousy lately…achy and tired…so much of his schoolwork sat untouched. But they did not need to know that fact, in his opinion.

Meg clucked her tongue playfully. "Slacker," she teased, pretending to punch him on the arm. He stuck out his tongue, glancing up at the sky.

"Yeah, well…" He gave a shrug. "I'll catch you two later, I guess. Try not to pester my new neighbors too much, okay?"

"I'll tell her not to," Meg replied, whispering loudly on purpose so that Joanna would hear her.

"Smart ass!"

Jack laughed, saluting them. "Adios," he called, and sped off again.

Shortly after the black Mercedes pulled into the driveway, another car, a red Saturn, pulled down the street. A young girl, about seventeen years of age, sat in the driver's seat. Her long red hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and sunglasses covered her green eyes against the early evening glare. She checked her rearview mirror, having noticed a handsome boy her age riding past on a bicycle, and felt her heart leap with excitement.

For the past couple of weeks she'd dreaded the move from Menifee to Perris, but if there were more cute boys like him in this neighborhood, perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all. Though he did bring a tiny ray of light into the current situation, that did not make the reason for the move less serious.

Rose sighed softly, half-listening to the music coming from the station she'd chosen, and pulled in behind her mother's car. Just six months before, her father had died in a horrible car accident on the 91 freeway on his way to work in Irvine, and soon afterwards, Ruth DeWitt-Bukater had discovered the dreadful debt he'd left them in. The two had been forced to move from their large, luxurious home to something much smaller, which Ruth did not miss a chance to destroy verbally.

Rose knew she would miss the comforts of upper middle class living, though the society itself she cared little for. She sat very still for a moment or two, taking a deep breath and opening the door. Ruth stood chatting with the two moving company men, using her hands in an attempt to describe where she wanted them to put certain things.

"There you are," she gasped when Rose came towards her, carrying her small black purse over her shoulder.

Rose felt eyes on her back and glanced over her shoulder, noticing Meg and Joanna watching them. She smiled, glad to know there would be kids her own age to hang out with. "Traffic," Rose quickly replied, surveying the house with interest. It wasn't half bad, considering. "Uh…Mom?" she motioned with her head towards the girls across the street. "Can I invite them over to say hi?"

Ruth looked horrified. "And see our house in this state? I think not, Rose! Besides, do you think the moving van will unload itself? Two men can only do so much, you know!"

Rose sighed, shooting the two teenagers an apologetic look, and grabbed the first box she could lift. "I need to start working out again," she grunted, stumbling forward pathetically as she walked through the front door. The hallways were narrow, and unlike their home in Menifee, the house was only one story.

"In the bedroom," she could hear her mother tell one of the men, and followed it to the medium-sized living room. The ceilings in the house were not very high, and the living room had dark brown walls and a white ceiling.

"Oh, this will never do," Ruth muttered under her breath, and Rose had to agree, for once. It looked so dark and dismal, as though they were living in a morgue. She noticed Rose standing next to her and pointed to the box. "What's in there? Set it down."

Rose gratefully put the box on the carpet and opened the top. "Kitchen supplies…right there." She pointed to the counter dividing the living room from the tiny kitchen space.

The moving men went back outside to get more things, and Rose followed her mother's instructions. "We are going to have to completely redecorate this dump," Ruth exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air as Rose put several glasses into one of the wooden cabinets above the sink.

"It's not a dump, really," she injected. "It's kind of…cute." She was lying through her teeth, and she knew it. She was just getting incredibly sick of her mother's constant retorts.

Ruth made it a point not to answer, and the two went back outside. The girls who had been standing on the curb across the street were gone by the time they reached the car, and Rose felt a sense of disappointment. "Oh, you'll have plenty of time to make friends, Rose, especially once you start at Perris High School. Besides, I've told Cal where we moved to, and he'll be coming to visit every so often."

Rose felt her heart turn cold as ice. She felt the box slipping from her fingers, and seconds later, felt a horrible pain shoot through her foot. "Dammit!" she swore, causing Ruth to give her a very strange look.

"I thought you'd be pleased," she commented. "You look as though hell has won over."

_It has, _Rose seethed. Caledon Hockley was the captain of the Paloma High School football team, and had been formally introduced to Rose by her mother at a sports banquet the previous November. Rose had been a cheerleader, so that was how they had even had the opportunity to meet in the first place. After the first meeting, Cal had invited her out to dinner, much to her mother's delight.

Rose found the popular football captain to be nothing but an arrogant bastard, which her mother refused to believe. "Oh, I'm thrilled, Mother," Rose growled, leaping up and down once she removed the box from on top of her toes.

"In fact, he'll be here tomorrow afternoon after school, and will take you out to dinner to celebrate your first day at Perris High."

_Oh, for the love of God, _Rose thought bitterly, the bright spot quickly disappearing. No matter how many cute boys she did meet or see in Perris, her chances of attempting to date any of them were very slim.

It took about four hours or so to get everything from the trucks and cars into the house, and after Ruth paid the moving men, they left. "Well, how about some dinner?" Ruth suggested after a few moments of awkward silence. "Since I'm obviously not up for cooking tonight, let's go and try one of the restaurants in town. I heard that Amigos Tres has good food."

Rose nodded, feeling her stomach rumble with hunger. She hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and had barely touched what she did have…mostly due to nerves. "Sounds good."

"Good. You can drive." Ruth tossed Rose her keys and led the way out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_August 19, 2004  
Perris High School  
Perris, California_

Rose got out of the Saturn and looked around the parking lot, her gaze fixed on the campus of her new high school. So far, it didn't look too bad. She had never been there during the day before, though when she had been a cheerleader at Paloma, she had come to a few games between the schools at night.

Sighing inwardly, she reached for her backpack, hoping it would be large enough to hold all of her books. Experience had already taught her that she would have more textbooks than she wanted, and all of them would be heavy. She doubted that the books here would be any exception.

Walking through the gate and onto the campus, Rose paused to look around. It certainly didn't look like the crime-ridden, seedy place she had been led to believe it was. Certainly, it wasn't as new as Paloma, but it didn't look bad. She looked around, hoping to see someone she recognized in the crowds—some other students from Paloma had transferred to Perris High School as well, since the schools were in the same district—but she didn't any familiar faces in the crowd. She looked for the two girls she had seen when she had arrived the day before, too, as well as the blond boy, but there was no sign of any of them, either.

She jumped, startled, as the bell rang. It went on for several seconds, loud and easily heard even with all the noise from the huge crowd of students. This was a real bell, too—not soft chimes like Paloma had. Of course, she had sometimes missed hearing the bell at Paloma and gotten into trouble because of it, so she supposed that this was better.

Pulling out her schedule, she looked at her first period class—chemistry. Unfortunately, she had no idea where it was located, and since school had been in session for more than a week, she didn't think anyone would be particularly sympathetic if she showed up late.

She stopped a boy who was hurrying by. "Do you know where this room is?" she asked, pointing to her schedule. The boy gave her a confused look. "Do you know where this room is?" she repeated.

"Ah…no…no ingles," he finally replied, then hurried on his way.

Rose sighed in frustration. The bell was going to ring soon, and she had no idea where she was supposed to be.

"Get moving! Come on!" A security guard waved her hand at her, gesturing for her to get to class.

"I…um…I'm new," Rose told her. "Do you know where this room is?"

The security guard looked at her schedule. "New building, first floor."

"Where's the new building?"

"Over there." She pointed. "It's easy to recognize—it's the only two story building on this campus."

"Thanks." Rose hurried off, breaking into a run as the warning bell rang.

She found the classroom and rushed inside just as the final bell rang. Out of breath, she stood in the doorway, wondering what she was supposed to do now.

The teacher, Mr. Horton, turned to look at her. "Can I help you?"

"Um…I'm new, and I have this class…"

He looked at her schedule. "Okay. Go ahead and have a seat at the table in the back." He pointed, gesturing towards the only table with an unoccupied seat.

Rose nodded, hurrying to sit down as the announcements began.

After putting her things down, she looked at the other students at the table. One was a scrawny boy with spiked hair and his pants sagging down around his thighs. He ignored her, more interested in the skateboarding magazine hidden inside his notebook than in anything else.

The other two were the girls Rose had seen in her new neighborhood the day before. She smiled, glad to see the familiar faces.

Joanna glanced towards the front of the room to see if Mr. Horton was watching, then leaned towards Rose. "You just moved into that house on Warbonnett, didn't you?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah, just yesterday. I saw you guys, but Mom wanted me to help move in. Otherwise I would've come and said hi."

Meg sighed. "My mom's like that, too. We moved in last year, and she made me help move in instead of meeting the cute blond guy across the street."

Rose thought about the boy she'd glimpsed. "The one on the bike?"

"Yeah." Joanna leaned closer. "He lives right next door to you. He's kind of hot—even if he is kind of skinny and into art."

"I like art." Rose was growing interested, though she knew she shouldn't be. "I have it sixth period."

"So does Jack—that's the guy next door to you. The teacher's Mrs. Baldwin. You've already got an assignment due, but I bet she'll let you make it up, since you're new." Joanna grinned. "Jack and…hey, what's your name?"

"Rose. Rose DeWitt-Bukater."

"I'm Joanna Gutierrez, and this is Meg Deluche. The geek next to you is Enrique Martinez."

"Shut up." Enrique looked up from his magazine for a moment, then went back to it, ignoring the three girls.

Joanna went on. "Jack and Rose…I like it. It has a nice ring to it…don't you think?" She elbowed Meg.

"Don't even start matchmaking," Meg told her. "You tried to set me up with him and it was a disaster. He's into basketball, art, and the environment," she explained to Rose. "He's cute, but he's kind of weird. Kind of intense. He told me he wanted to make each day count, and got this weird look on his face, but he wouldn't say why. I went to a dance with him last year, and he was embarrassing, wanting to dance weird and swing me around and everything. He tried to show me how to do an Irish jig. Can you believe it? I didn't go out with him again after that."

"I think he's cool," Joanna countered. "You should meet him, Rose—maybe you'll like him. Especially since you like art, too."

"Shh!" Meg looked at the front of the room. "Mr. Horton's gonna get us in trouble! He's trying to teach now."

Rose looked apologetically at Joanna and turned her attention to the teacher. Her new neighbor sounded very intriguing, but she had to keep reminding herself that she was still going out with Cal, thanks to her mother. They'd been together for several months, but the longer Rose knew him, the less she liked him. She hadn't come up with a good way to break up with him yet, though.

When class ended, Joanna pointed Rose in the direction of the library, since she had no second period class. Before she left, she asked, "Hey, Rose, you wanna hang out with us at lunch? We hang out in the senior quad. We're not supposed to, but nobody stops us."

"Um…" Rose consulted her schedule. "What lunch do you have? I have second lunch."

"Me, too." Joanna nodded. "So does Meg." She leaned closer. "So does Jack, and he usually plays basketball during lunch—right by the quad."

"Would you stop?" Meg shook her head. "Let Rose decide if she likes him." She picked up her books. "I gotta go. I don't wanna be late. See you later, Rose."

"Sure." Rose grabbed her backpack and slung it on her back. "See ya, Joanna."

Rose walked towards the library, fighting the huge crowds of students, some rushing, some taking their time. One couple was standing in the middle of the walkway, making out. Some of the other kids laughed at them or teased them, but the pair was too caught up in each other to notice.

As she approached the library, Rose caught sight of a familiar blond head in the crowd. Her heartbeat quickening a little, she followed him up the steps to the library.

The library was crowded, too, but not as crowded as it was outside. Three harried-looking women were working at the desks, checking out books and issuing instructions. The youngest of the three shook her head when Rose started walking towards the stacks of books on chairs, pointing instead towards the piles of books on the floor.

Rose walked towards where she had pointed and began selecting her books, hoping that she was getting the right ones. The blond boy—Jack—ducked in front of her, grabbing the last of the government books. He looked up at her apologetically for a moment, but didn't let go of the book.

A book shortage. How typical. There never seemed to be enough books for everyone, or space, or anything else, but more students kept coming, and nothing ever seemed to change. Paloma had had the same problems, despite the assumption that they were superior to Perris.

She looked at her schedule, relieved to see that she didn't have government until second semester. She smiled at Jack, reaching for an economics book—at least there seemed to be plenty of those! He smiled back. She was about to introduce herself when the strident voice of the woman at the center desk rang out, calling for the next student to some and check out their books, and he hurried away.

Rose stared after him for a moment, reminding herself that she already had a boyfriend, and hurried to collect the rest of her books. The stack was heavy, weighing her down, but she was relieved when the young library worker, Ms. Hulstrom, told her that she only needed to bring her books if her teacher told her to—otherwise, she should leave them at home.

When she was finished checking out her books, Rose looked to see if Jack was still around, but was disappointed to see that he had left. Even though she already had a boyfriend, she wanted to meet him. Maybe they could be friends—after all, she lived right next door to him.

When Rose got to her third period class, she was surprised and pleased to see that Jack was in the same class, but she didn't have a chance to talk to him, since the teacher, Mr. Carter, put her in a seat on the other side of the room from him and then started the lecture.

She wished that she could talk to him after class, but she had calculus fourth period, and she had already been informed that the teacher, Mr. Herzog, did not put up with tardy students, new or not, and she had no desire to wind up in OCD her first day at the high school.

Rose was glad when lunch arrived, and was even more glad that she had brought her own lunch when she saw the long lines quickly forming at the cafeteria windows and the pizza cart.

The senior quad, fortunately, was easy to find—she had already walked past it earlier on her way to her English class. Meg and Joanna were waiting for her.

She sat down next to them on the low brick wall that surrounded the quad, her eyes darting around as she looked for Jack.

He was sitting on the wall across the quad, his back to her as he scarfed down his lunch, eyeing the basketball game already in progress.

Joanna noticed the direction of Rose's gaze and elbowed Meg, then whispered to Rose, "Was I right, or was I right? He's hot, isn't he?"

Rose shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "I guess."

"Oh, come on!"

"Hey! I already have a boyfriend."

"Who's your boyfriend?"

"His name's Cal Hockley. He goes to Paloma."

"He plays football, right?" Meg asked.

"Yeah. Captain of the team."

"I know who he is!" Meg snapped her fingers. "He's that jerk who called a Perris kid a greaser and got into a fight at one of the football games last year." She looked at Rose. "Sorry."

"That's him, all right." Rose sighed. "He's got an attitude problem."

"Then why do you go out with him?"

Rose shrugged, not giving her an answer, then turned to look at Jack, who had finished his lunch and was trying to capture the ball from another player. She watched as he got the ball away and threw it through the hoop, frowning a little at the sight of some colorful bruises on his legs. Basketball games must get rough here.

"Maybe you should dump Cal and go for Jack," Joanna suggested, grinning at the way Rose was watching him.

Rose turned to look at her, mouth open. "I don't even know him! He might even have a girlfriend already."

"Nope," Joanna told her, stuffing a bite of pizza into her mouth. "He went out with a girl from the girls' basketball team a few times last year, but they're not together anymore."

"You and your curiosity," Meg grumbled. "Does anything happen you _don't_ know about?"

Joanna thought for a minute. "Not really." She laughed, ducking as Meg pretended to punch her.

"What have you got next period?" Meg asked Rose. "I have economics with Dekker."

Rose consulted her schedule. "Me, too. Is he a good teacher?"

Meg and Joanna laughed. "Depends on how you define good," Joanna told her. "If you mean is he an easy teacher, yeah. All you have to do is go to class and laugh at his jokes and you'll get an A."

"And print out his lectures," Meg added. "But nobody does any work in there."

"Do you actually learn anything?"

Meg laughed. "We learned a dirty joke about the governator yesterday."

"He has a bad one about Bush today," Joanna added, laughing. "Wait 'til you hear it. He has one about Kerry, too."

"I thought this was economics." Rose gave them a puzzled look. Those sounded like political jokes to her.

"It is," Meg told her. "It's also Dekker. His class is easy—just listen to his jokes, even if they're not about economics."

The bell rang then, signaling that it was time to go to class. "Come on, Rose." Meg picked up her books. "We both have Dekker next, so you can't get lost looking for his classroom—not that he'd care. You can be late and he'll still let you in. He won't do anything about it—as Joanna has already found out."

"Whatever." Joanna headed across the quad, waving. "See you guys later!"

Rose nodded, then followed Meg, looking at the basketball court as she did so. Jack was still there, throwing the ball back to the kid who owned it. He saw her looking at him and smiled.

She smiled back, hoping to get a chance to meet him soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Rose pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, peering curiously through the thick branches of her new neighbors' olive tree. She hoped to catch a glimpse of Jack, but there was no sign of him.

Sighing, she shrugged, lifting her heavy backpack and dragging it out of the car. As she shut and locked the door, she looked toward the neighbors' yard again, still hoping for a glimpse of Jack, but when she didn't see him, she turned and headed for the front door, the bag heavy on her back.

_He's probably at basketball practice_, she thought—Meg had told her that Jack was on the basketball team. _Besides, I have a boyfriend—even if I do wish he'd disappear_.

Rose unlocked the front door and went inside, dropping the heavy bag gratefully. It left another scratch in the already ugly linoleum floor, but she didn't care—it wasn't likely anyone would notice one more scratch anyway.

She quickly turned on the swamp cooler, then opened a window, listening to the sounds of kids coming down the street—the elementary school bus had just arrived. She had already noticed that there were a lot of kids in the neighborhood, and most of them spent plenty of time playing outside—unlike in her old neighborhood in Menifee, where the streets were mostly deserted even on weekends.

Rose wished that she could go out and explore the neighborhood herself, but she had homework to do, and it was too hot to sit outside and do it. Calculus in particular was going to be tough—she had never liked math much, even if she was good at it.

Rose was still working on her homework when Cal arrived to pick her up at five o'clock. She looked out the window when she heard his car pull up—a shiny black Porsche, the second such car he'd had since she'd known him. He'd totaled the first one night on the freeway—he'd been driving too fast and had hit the center divider. He hadn't been hurt, but the car had been destroyed.

Rose hadn't been surprised when his father had immediately bought him another—Nathan Hockley rarely saw his son, and compensated for his guilty feelings by buying Cal anything he wanted. Despite the fact that it had been Cal's own fault that the car had been wrecked, his father hadn't hesitated to buy him another just like it.

Personally, Rose thought that Cal shouldn't be driving at all, let alone driving a Porsche. He'd almost hit a girl in the parking lot at Paloma in May, and then had laughed about it, saying that she shouldn't have been in his way. He'd been suspended for two days, but it hadn't taught him anything.

Cal stopped the car with a screech in front of the mailbox, earning a loud honk from the mailman he'd cut off. He gave the man a rude gesture as he got out and jogged up to Rose's front door.

Rose gritted her teeth when he rang the doorbell twice and then called, "Sweetpea! Sweetpea, are you ready to go?"

Rose hated being called Sweetpea—at least by Cal. The sweetpea had been her father's favorite flower, and she hadn't minded when he had called her that as a pet name, but something about the way Cal said it set her teeth on edge.

She got up and went to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. Cal was slouching against the wall waiting for her, not noticing the black widow spider just a few inches above his head. Rose couldn't suppress a smirk as she thought of what would happen if it dropped down on him, but when he looked at her questioningly, she pointed to the spider over his head.

Cal looked up and gasped, jumping away from the poisonous arachnid. Rose giggled, glad to see his arrogant demeanor disappear for a moment, but stopped when he glared at her angrily.

"Are you ready?" he repeated, his old arrogance back.

"Yes, I'm coming." Rose went inside and picked up her purse, making sure her cell phone was inside, then joined Cal on the front walk. A black smear marred the doormat—Cal had found a stick and knocked the spider down, then crushed it with one of his expensive sneakers.

"Where are we going?" she asked, approaching the Porsche reluctantly. Cal's driving had scared her more than once.

"Temecula. There's a new Thai restaurant I want to try."

Rose groaned inwardly. Temecula was a long drive in the rush hour traffic—it hadn't been labeled Trafficula for nothing—and knowing Cal's taste, the restaurant would be expensive. She was just glad he was paying.

"Do we have to down there? It's such a long drive, and I still have homework to do…"

"Where else would we go, Sweetpea? Somewhere in Perris?" He said the name of the town like it was something nasty.

"Mom and I went to Amigos Tres last night. The food is good, and everyone who's anyone goes there…"

Cal gave her an amused look. _Oh, right,_ Rose reminded herself. _He doesn't care who's who in this 'seedy little town'. Never mind that one of the owners of Amigos Tres is on the school board and Cal might just need to be in his good graces if he gets one more F—the old principal isn't at Paloma anymore to change athletes' grades_.

"All right." She sighed, heading for the passenger side of the car.

"Come on, Sweetpea. You like Temecula."

"I'd like it better if there wasn't so much traffic." _And if you weren't there_, she added silently.

"This car can get through any of that."

Rose rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking. No matter how powerful the Porsche was, it wasn't cutting through rush hour traffic—but she knew he wouldn't listen if she said so, so she kept her mouth shut. It was better to maintain the peace.

Rose and Cal left the restaurant at 7:30 that evening. Rose had enjoyed the food, but she had been right about it being expensive, and Cal hadn't brought any money for the tip, so she had been stuck taking care of it. Cal would happily have walked out without leaving a tip, but considering how rude he'd been when they hadn't been seated immediately, Rose thought that the long-suffering waitress deserved a good tip.

Cal got into the car, then turned to look at her. "It's still early, Sweetpea," he told her, arching one eyebrow and looking her over. "Why don't we go somewhere more private? I know a good spot out in the Temecula wine country…"

Rose knew exactly what he wanted—he'd been pressuring her for sex since their first date. She shook her head.

"Cal…this isn't a good time. I still have homework to do."

"You always have homework. Let it go for once."

"I can't. I'm new to Perris High School and I don't want to mess up right now."

"You gave the same excuse last week at Paloma."

"No, last week I said it was a new school year and I was about to leave the school and wanted good grades to go with me."

"Rose…"

"No, Cal! Now, would you please take me home?"

"You are such a bitch!"

Rose reached for the door handle. "Fine. I'll call Mom to come and pick me up."

"Forget it. I'll take you home." Cal put the car in gear, backing out so fast that he almost hit another car. Rose winced, making sure her seatbelt was on properly. She especially didn't like riding with him when he was angry.

* * *

Cal pulled up in front of Rose's house with a screech, then turned the car off, glaring at her. Rose unbuckled her seatbelt, glad to be home.

Cal had driven much too fast on the way back to her house, dodging traffic and cutting people off. Rose had slouched down in her seat, fearing that he would incite someone to road rage. She even hoped that a cop would pull him over and give him a ticket, but she hadn't seen a single police car the whole way.

She reached for the door handle, but Cal stopped her, his eyes still narrowed angrily. "We need to talk."

"Cal…"

"No, Rose. We need to talk."

"About what?"

"I've spent a lot of money on you."

"Thank you. Dinner was excellent." _I wish I could say the same for the company_.

"That isn't what I mean, and you know it."

Rose did, but she wasn't about to admit it. "What do you mean, then?"

"You owe me."

"Fine. I'll pay next time."

"Goddammit, Rose! You know what I mean! If you don't start putting out, I'm going to find someone who will."

Rose took a deep breath, coming to a decision.

"You know something, Cal? That suits me just fine. I don't want to sleep with you, and since that's all you ever seem to want, I think it's time we broke up. Go find some little slut who'll give you what you want. Mattie Rader, that new cheerleader, should be about right."

He slapped her. Rose jerked back in shock. She knew that Cal could be mean, but he'd never hit her before.

"That's it!" she spat. "I've had it up to here with you! We're finished! I won't stay with a guy who hits me."

He grabbed her, shaking her hard and knocking her head against the seat. Rose kicked him, glad that she was wearing sturdy shoes.

He didn't let go, but he did stop shaking her. "And what will your mom say, Rose? She's the one who got us together in the first place."

"I don't care what she says. I don't even want to see you again, let alone sleep with you."

He slapped her again, harder this time. "Get out of my car!"

"Gladly!" Rose pushed the door open and got out, barely making it to the curb before he took off with a screech of tires, nearly knocking her into the street.

Rose shouted after him. "Asshole!" A mother who was watching her children play gave Rose a dirty look, not wanting her kids to hear that kind of language.

Rose turned and stomped up the driveway. Her mother's car was parked there, meaning that Ruth was home and had undoubtedly heard the commotion.

She was right. Ruth met her at the door.

"Rose! What happened out there?"

"Cal and I broke up, Mom. I didn't want to sleep with him, and he didn't want to take no for an answer."

"Rose, I know he's a little immature, but—"

"He's an asshole."

"Do you want me to wash your mouth out with soap?"

Rose threw her purse down, stomping one foot angrily. "Fine. He's a jerk. He started hitting me when I said I wanted to break up."

"I'm sure you could have reached a compromise…"

"Mom! Do you want me sleeping with him? I'm still in high school! I don't want to get pregnant or something!" _Especially not by him,_ she thought.

"That's not what I meant, Rose!"

"Nobody ever says what they mean!"

"Rose…"

"I'm going for a walk, Mom. I need to clear my head."

"Not right now, you aren't. It's dark out."

"I don't care."

"I do. You're staying home."

Rose had had enough. Angry and frustrated, she gave the wall a swift kick, then turned and stormed out of the house and down the walk. Ruth didn't try to stop her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Rose ran down the street, her fists clenched angrily. It was bad enough that Cal was such a jerk, but to have her mother defend him after she broke up with him—it was more than she could stand. Why did her mother like Cal so much, anyway? She hardly knew him. Could it have something to do with the fact that his parents were both very successful and well-to-do? Her mother tended to be influenced by such things, but to actually want Rose to continue a relationship with someone she couldn't stand because of it was too much.

Rose darted around the corner, ignoring the dogs who barked loudly at her and a man who whistled and called out. She wasn't in any mood to go home right now.

The street that she had turned onto—Cherokee—ended in a dirt road heading up into the hills. She paused as she reached the end of it, then shrugged, starting up the soft dirt road.

There wasn't much light after she passed the church at the edge of the hills—there was only a thin sliver of moon visible, and the lights from the houses didn't penetrate far into the dark brushland—but she kept going. She could have turned around and headed in the direction of Navajo Road, which led to a shopping center and a gas station, but she really didn't want to be around anyone right now.

Rose kept running, panting as the trail grew steeper, until she tripped in an erosion gully and pitched forward into the dirt, scraping the palms of her hands but fortunately not injuring herself further. She got to her feet slowly, looking around.

She remembered the trail branching off at one point, but didn't remember exactly where. She was surrounded by dry brush, the steep ridge of the hills rising to her right. In the valley below, lights from the houses and strip malls sparkled, looking almost pretty in the darkness. She turned, ready to go back now, and then realized that she had no idea where she was or how far she had run.

In the starlight, she could see the trail branching off in both directions. She turned, then stopped, realizing that she didn't know which way to go. She could see the lights of the valley in the distance, but that wasn't where she needed to go. She turned and looked the other way, seeing some lights, but wasn't sure if that was right, either. The house she lived in now was part of the oldest housing development in town, and the residents' love for trees over the past forty-four years had made a virtual woodland of it. She looked to the side, seeing what appeared to be a similar neighborhood in the distance, but she still didn't know which way to go.

Directly ahead of her was the high ridge of the hills. She stared at it, then decided to climb further, hoping that she would be able to see her way home from the top.

Rose was panting when she reached the top of the ridge—the trail was very steep—but when she looked around, she had no more idea of where she was than she had twenty minutes earlier. The lights in the valley still sparkled, and there were still faint lights from the older neighborhoods in the hills—and she still didn't know which way was home.

She could have walked down the trail and followed it until it came to a road, and then followed the road around back to a familiar place, but she was tired now, and still upset, and more lost than ever.

Rose blinked her eyes against a sudden rush of tears. She had been under a lot of stress the past few weeks—losing her father in that horrible car accident in February, dealing with a boyfriend who seemed to grow more obnoxious each day, moving to a new neighborhood, starting a new school, breaking up with her obnoxious boyfriend, fighting with her mother. And now she was lost in the hills, and had no idea how to get home.

A howl sounded from a nearby hill, followed by another, and Rose shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. There were animals out here, animals who could see in the dark much better than she could, and she had no way to defend herself. Feral dogs, coyotes, mountain lions, bears, rattlesnakes…any of them could be nearby, stalking her, and she wouldn't know they were there until it was too late.

Rose looked around, wide-eyed, as the tears started spilling down her face. She was lost and alone, and something would eat her out here. In fact, she was certain she had already passed one animal—she had brushed against something soft and warm on her way up the ridge. She didn't know what it was, but maybe it was what had howled. Maybe it was stalking her now.

Instinctively, Rose moved out on top of a rock with a steep drop-off on the other side. Nothing could come at her from down below—could it? She would be safe on one side, anyway.

As Rose listened to the night sounds, to the wind in the dry brush and grass, she suddenly wondered if it would be so bad to be killed by an animal. Her life was in shambles, she missed her father desperately…would it really be bad if something happened to her? At least her mother wouldn't lecture her about breaking up with her boyfriend.

Rose inched closer to the dark drop-off on the other side of the rock. _What would happen if I jumped?_ she wondered, knowing even as she thought it that she had no desire to jump. She didn't really want to die, and if she landed badly, she could break her leg and lie out there for days until someone came across her. By then, the heat or the animals would have taken care of her.

Still, the dark void below the rock seemed to be calling to her, tempting her to find out just how long a drop it was—until she heard the sound a small rock bouncing across the stone behind her and a voice broke into her thoughts.

"Don't do it."

* * *

Jack had ridden his bike out into the hills earlier that afternoon to put the finishing touches on the assignment for his art class. Mrs. Baldwin had liked his drawing but had offered him the chance to turn the rough draft into something a little more polished, and he had taken her up on it. He had taken her art class before and knew that she thought he had talent—and art was his favorite hobby. No matter how he was feeling, he still enjoyed it.

He had skipped basketball practice that day, going home right after school and laying down to take a nap. He still felt tired and achy, even after sleeping for twelve hours the night before. At four o'clock, he'd gotten up and headed out before his parents got home—his dad was an English teacher at Murrieta High School and his mom was a social worker in Perris, so they didn't get home until somewhere between five and six. His dad usually got home first, but he knew how Jack liked to go out in the hills sometimes, and if his bike was missing, that was usually where he'd gone.

He'd gone up to the ridge, leaving his bike in a stand of brittlebrush below—he hadn't felt like making the effort required to ride it up the steep, narrow, partially eroded trail. In spite of his nap, he was still tired.

He'd finished his project, adding the finishing touches just after 5:30 and then sitting back for a while to enjoy the quiet—but the summer air had been warm, and the dry grass he was sitting in soft, and before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep again.

He didn't awaken until something brushed against his leg. Disoriented, he sat up, wondering where he was for a moment. Then he remembered that he was out in the hills, realized that he'd fallen asleep—and knew that his parents would be unhappy that he hadn't come home and hadn't called.

He was eighteen now—his birthday had been in May—but his parents still wanted to coddle him and protect him. He resented it sometimes, but knew that a lot of their overprotectiveness stemmed from the illness that had struck him down twice in the past seven years.

Jack shook his head, not wanting to think about that. He was fine now, he assured himself—though he hadn't felt as well lately as he would have liked—and the disease that had sickened him twice wasn't coming back. He wouldn't let it.

He stayed where he was, wondering what had brushed past him, until he heard a soft sob coming from a short ways up the trail. Someone was up there—someone very upset.

Cautiously, Jack got to his feet, walking quietly so as not to scare whoever it was he had heard. He stopped, alarmed, as the person walked across the steep rock at the peak of the hill, inching closer to the edge.

Setting down his notebook, Jack moved forward, accidentally kicking a small rock and sending it skittering in the direction of the person standing so close to the edge. She stiffened—it was a girl standing there, he could see now—turning her head slightly to see him.

"Don't do it." Jack moved closer, hoping that his presence wouldn't scare her into jumping off the rock. It was only about fifteen feet to the ground below—but it still made for a nasty fall, even a fatal one if a person fell wrong.

She whirled around, almost losing her balance on the edge of the rock. "Stay back! I mean it! Don't come any closer!" She tensed, not sure what to do.

"Come on. Give me your hand. I'll get you away from there."

"No! Go away! I mean it! I'll—I'll…"

"I won't hurt you." Jack moved closer. "Come on. Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"How would you know?" she flared indignantly. "You don't know me or anything about me. Stay—stay away from me!"

"I'll leave you alone if you step away from the edge of that rock. That's a nasty fall."

"Don't tell me what to do! You could be some—some junkie or rapist. Just—just get away from me!"

"I can't. I'm too involved now. If you fall, I'm going to have to rescue you, and that's easier said than done out here in the dark. And I'm no rapist. As to being a junkie—I don't take drugs unless I need them." He moved a little closer. "Come on. Give me your hand."

Rose looked at him, weakening. She didn't recognize him in the darkness, but he didn't sound dangerous. He sounded…like he cared. Like he really cared what happened to her.

Cal wouldn't have cared. He would have been annoyed that she'd run off and gotten lost, and if he had rescued her, he would have told all his friends about it, making himself out to be a hero—and her to be a hopeless idiot.

Finally, she put her hand out, inching away from the edge of the rock. He took it firmly, pulling her gently towards the safety of the trail. Rose swallowed back a sudden sob of relief.

Just as they reached the edge of the trail, Rose stumbled over an outcropping of phenocryst and fell against him, knocking them both to the ground.

Jack cursed under his breath as Rose fell against him, rubbing his sore elbow where he had knocked it against the ground.

Rose scrambled to her feet, embarrassed. "Oh…I'm sorry. I tripped over something…" She leaned over to help him to his feet.

"Thanks." Jack rubbed his elbow some more, knowing that it would be another aching spot to add to the others by tomorrow.

Rose looked at him—even in the darkness, he looked vaguely familiar. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should introduce myself."

"Yeah. That would be nice." He stopped rubbing his elbow and put out a hand. "I'm Jack Dawson."

"I'm Rose DeWitt-Bukater…oh, now I know who you are! You're my new neighbor…I live next door to you."

"Yeah…I saw you yesterday as I was riding by…and today at school."

"Well…um…thanks, Jack. I was kind of…I don't know…lost, I guess."

"At school?"

"No…out here."

"What happened, by the way? Why were you standing on the edge of that rock?"

Rose sighed, not wanting to go into it at the moment. "It…it's complicated." She looked around, then looked back at him sheepishly. "I…uh…I don't suppose you know how to get home, do you?"

"Sure. I come out here all the time. Not usually at night, but…I did come here once to watch a meteor shower, so…yeah, I know how to get home."

"Why were you out here tonight?"

"Um…no particular reason. I just…was." He went to where he'd left his notebook. "I was working on an assignment for art class."

"In the dark?" Rose looked at him skeptically.

"Well…uh…I kind of dozed off…I stayed up too late last night and then went to school and basketball practice after school…" He didn't like lying, but he wasn't about to admit that he wasn't feeling well. "Um…my bike is just down the trail from here…I'll give you a ride on my handlebars if you like."

"Sure. Um…Jack…if you ever talk to my mother…please don't tell her I got lost out here. She'd never let me hear the end of it."

"Sure." He grinned. "If you don't tell my parents that I was napping out in the dirt."

Rose wrinkled her nose, then laughed. "That must be a guy thing. Okay. I won't tell if you won't. Deal?"

"Deal. Let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

When Rose arrived at school the next morning, the thought of seeing Jack again made her stomach flutter with nervous anxiety. She wished they had met under different circumstances, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. She smiled to herself, remembering how juvenile the ride back on Jack's handlebars seemed, but he was so sweet and kind that it didn't matter to her. With a hug and a wave, they said good night and parted ways.

"Hey, Jack!" Rose called before he went inside his door, and he turned. "Would you…um…like to eat lunch with me tomorrow, maybe? We could talk more?" She felt her heart beating rapidly, noticing the expression of surprised pleasure on his face afterwards.

"Sure," he replied, beaming. "Senior quad, right?" She nodded. "I saw you sitting with Jo and Meg. They won't mind if a guy joins in, will they?"

She smirked. "Are you kidding?" she asked, and then remembered that Meg had gone out with Jack at one point, so it would be a little awkward for her. "I'm sure they won't mind at all," she insisted, shaking her head. "So, I'll see you at lunch, then?" He nodded before turning in for the night.

When she'd gotten inside, her mother, luckily, had fallen asleep on the couch. This made for an easy getaway to her room, though to be kind, she left her mother a note on the coffee table telling her she had returned safe and sound from her walk. Thankfully, though, it was only ten o'clock by the time she got back…she'd only been gone about an hour and a half. Ruth was used to her daughter going out for long walks, as much as she despised the idea of a young woman walking around alone at night. But Rose was certainly resourceful. That was without a doubt.

Before leaving for school that morning, Rose peeked through the bushes as she had the previous afternoon to see if she could catch Jack on his way out, thinking it would be a nice gesture to offer him a ride, but she didn't see him. _He probably just takes the bus or gets a ride from a parent, _she thought, remembering back in the day when she had done the same thing. Well, back in the day as in the previous year…she'd received the red Saturn as a gift from her father after she got her license.

Rose finally pulled into a parking spot, turning off the engine, and stared ahead of her for a few moments in silence. The idea that she'd actually considered committing suicide was still fresh in her mind, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell Joanna or Meg about it yet. She would have to tell them about her break-up with Cal…that would clearly be a huge rumor going around the school, and she preferred her friends to hear the truth before it became too distorted to tell whose story was correct. She would also have to warn them about Jack's joining them for lunch, which Joanna would no doubt tease her over. She could hear her friend's voice, clear as day. _See? You see? I knew you'd like him, Rose! I knew you two would be perfect for each other!_

"Oh, damn," Rose breathed, smacking her hands against the steering wheel, and blew out her breath. It was 7:30, and school began at 7:45, followed by morning announcements. She opened the door, shut it behind her, and then grabbed her backpack out from the backseat before making her way to the building.

"Hey!" Rose turned to see Joanna breathlessly running towards her, her long dark hair down, but with a single braid along one side. "I—tried—calling you—last night," she panted, clutching at a stitch in her side as they pulled open the door to the new building, "but your mom said you'd gone out."

Rose wet her lips, nodding. "Yeah…I needed to clear my head and didn't get back until at least ten."

"I was wondering why you didn't call me back," Joanna teased, nudging her friend's arm playfully. "So, is everything okay?"

Rose gave her a smile. "Oh, yeah, everything's fine. I did, however, meet up with…hey, Meg!" Rose caught her other friend standing by the stairs and then caught up to her.

"I didn't want to get up this morning," Meg grumbled as they made their way to their chemistry class. "Why does school have to begin at 7:45? It's an inhumane hour of the day, I think!"

Joanna flung her hands in the air. "High school in general is inhumane!" she exclaimed, receiving a dirty look from a nearby security guard. Rose snickered, apologizing for her friend as they dashed inside the classroom, which was slowly filling up. Mr. Horton was at the desk, poring over his usual paperwork, and merely gave a humph when they greeted him before taking their seats.

"So, what were you going on about earlier?" Joanna whispered as they took out their books and notebooks, and Meg cocked her head to one side, a confused look on her face.

"What?" she whispered, and Rose crossed her legs.

"I was saying," she began, "that I met Jack last night."

Both girls gasped, and it took a lot of willpower for Joanna not to squeal with excitement right there in the classroom. Instead, she slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing. "Oh, Rose, I'm so excited! I knew you'd meet eventually, and oh, do you like him?"

"She's dating someone already, in case you forgot, Jo," Meg replied, and Rose swallowed.

"Not anymore," she admitted, and her friends' excited faces changed to shock.

"What do you mean?" Meg asked, glancing up at the clock, which read 7:44.

"I broke up with Cal last night," Rose whispered, after pausing for a moment or two, and Meg gasped.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "Wow…how did he take it?"

Rose was about to reply when the bell rang and Mr. Horton told the class that it was time to start. She grimaced a bit and mouthed that she would tell them about it later, and turned her attention towards the teacher.

* * *

It seemed to take ages for the lunch hour to come along, and by the time it did, Rose was so nervous she hardly said a word until they reached the quad. "So, you never told us," Joanna whispered as they sat down and began to open their lunches. "How did Cal react to your breaking up with him?"

"Oh, he was furious, of course." Rose sighed, unwrapping her sandwich and setting her bottle of water beside her. "But I couldn't take it anymore. He's been such an asshole to me for the past few months. My mom wasn't happy about it, though."

"Not happy about the break-up?" Joanna asked, opening what Rose recognized as sushi, but Meg wrinkled her nose at the miniature tire-shaped pieces of raw fish, rice, and seaweed mixed together. "Why would your mom…"

"Joanna, what is that?" she asked, and just at that moment, Rose looked up to see a familiar figure coming towards them.

"It's sushi. Duh!" Joanna scoffed. "Don't tell me you've never heard of sushi before!"

"Well, of course, but I've never seen it…and ew, isn't it raw fish?"

"Um…guys?" She cleared her throat, and both girls looked at her. "I…er…invited Jack to eat lunch with us today. I hope you guys don't mind," she added as Meg's mouth opened and closed stupidly.

"S-sure," Joanna stuttered, and Rose hopped to her feet, hurrying to greet him. Jack looked exhausted at first glance, and she frowned at the dark circles under his eyes when he got closer.

"Hey, Jack. Are you all right?" she asked, frowning deeply. "You look really wiped out."

"Yeah." Jack sighed. "Hey," he greeted Joanna, and smiled shyly at Meg, who gave him a single, awkward, wispy wave.

"Hey, Jack. There's plenty of room." She giggled, and Rose rolled her eyes, allowing him to sit on the opposite side of her.

"So, what's going on?" Jack asked as Joanna offered the sushi to him.

"Jack, you seem like the adventurous type. Go on. Try a piece," she insisted, and Jack blinked.

"What?" He laughed, and Meg snorted.

"Sushi. Joanna is trying to prove to me that it's good, but I don't believe her."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Rose told him, giving her friends a warning look.

"No, I'll give it a shot." He set his lunch down, his appetite not quite what it used to be. He accepted a piece of raw salmon, his stomach churning at the thought of eating anything, but he took a bite anyway. The group watched as he wrinkled his nose, not quite sure what to think.

Rose started giggling at that point, and he swallowed, licking his lips. "I…well, I guess it's an acquired taste," he told Joanna. "It…um…" He coughed. "It wasn't bad, but I don't know." He shrugged, and Joanna turned to Meg with a smug expression on her face.

"Jack tried it. Now you have to."

"No way!" Meg squealed, leaping up as Joanna pretended to chase her with it.

Rose rolled her eyes, leaning towards Jack. "Ignore them," she whispered, and he smirked.

"I've known Joanna since kindergarten," he replied, as Joanna and Meg burst into laughter and began talking about something else. "So, how are you doing today?" he asked in a quiet voice, not sure if she had told Joanna and Meg about the incident on the cliff. She shrugged, smiling softly.

"Better because of you, Jack. I wanted to thank you for what you did, by the way. I don't know what I was thinking."

He smiled, nodding. "My pleasure. Sometimes your brain goes into hyperdrive when you're upset. I'm glad I got there when I did."

She nodded. "Me, too. So…" She smiled. "Joanna told me you're interested in art."

Jack took a sip of his Coke, trying his best to nibble at his lunch. "Yeah. I've been drawing since I was a kid…it's just something I love to do."

"I'm not much of an artist." Rose chuckled. "But I do love looking at art. I love Monet and Picasso, that type of thing."

Jack nodded. "Me, too. Sometime I'll have to bring over my book of sketches and show you what I've done. I have hundreds, and my parents still have some of my artwork hanging on the fridge from when I was five or whenever."

Rose snickered. "My mom never did that, but my dad did." There was a hint of sadness in her voice as she mentioned her father, but Jack didn't want to press into what the reason for it was. "So, have you been living here for your entire life?"

Joanna and Meg were whispering to each other now, peeking at Jack and Rose, who were clearly unaware of the fact that their friends were watching.

"Let's leave them be," Joanna hissed, and Meg gave her a look.

"We can't just get up and go without saying anything," she replied, and Joanna gave a dramatic sigh, interrupting the conversation. Jack and Rose glanced at her in surprise, and she practically lifted Meg up by the scruff of the neck.

"Well, we'll let you two have some privacy," she explained, and Rose snickered under her breath. "I'll call you later, Rose. Okay?"

"Okay." Rose laughed, waving as the girls dashed off to the other side of the quad. Jack raised his hands in confusion, and Rose shook her head.

"Never mind. So, where were we?"

"You asked if I lived here my whole life," Jack repeated, and Rose nodded.

"Yeah."

"Yep. I know it pretty much like the back of my hand," Jack admitted, and Rose folded her arms.

"Even the wilds," she pointed out. "I was terrified out there all by myself."

Jack shrugged. "It's not so bad once you get used to it. I love just sitting on that cliff and staring at the hills. It's hard to believe all the construction the developers keep doing."

Rose shook her head with a groan. "Too much of it. They ruin everything that's beautiful in the world."

"I'm a member of the Sierra Club," Jack explained. "I've always had a fascination with the environment, and I think the area is getting too crowded. The animals will not have anywhere to go soon, and then they'll die off."

Rose glanced up at the sky and watched as several kids ran past her, laughing and talking in loud voices. She checked her watch and found they still had a good fifteen minutes left before it would be time to head to class again. "When I was younger," she began, "my grandmother and I used to walk around the fields and look at the flowers. I loved picking them and bringing them home for my mother." _Those were the days, _she thought sadly. There had always been a bit of distance between herself and her mother, which began a long time ago. She had a closer connection to her grandmother, and had been devastated when she died.

"Oh, this is getting depressing, Jack!" Rose finally laughed. "Let's talk about something else. Tell me about basketball. Are you on the team here at Perris, or do you just play for fun? You seem pretty good. I was watching you the other day." She wanted to point out the several bruises she'd noticed and ask how he got them, but she felt that was a bit awkward.

She also noticed that Jack hadn't touched his lunch, which surprised her, because boys his age were usually living garbage compactors with how much food they scarfed down in one sitting.

"I'm on the team," he said. "I also like to play with my friends." He didn't add that he'd been surprised to pass the physical after all the years of illness when he was a child. "We're not that good. The girls are the ones who win all the games for the school." He winked. "So, do you…work or anything?"

Rose nodded. "I work at Sam's Club."

"No kidding?" He grinned. "You must gain some pretty decent muscles, lifting all of those heavy things!"

She giggled. "See if you can tell," she whispered, flexing her arms. Jack touched her biceps and nodded with a smirk.

"Impressive. My parents have a membership, but we really don't shop there much anymore. Maybe I can snag it off of them and come to visit you one day. When do you work usually?"

Rose took a final sip of her water and screwed on the cap. "I usually work Thursday through Sunday. But I don't have long hours…maybe three or four a day. It's not so bad, and I love my co-workers. Do you work?"

Jack shook his head. "No, I don't. That's cool, though." He was about to say something else when the bell to end lunch rang, and Rose groaned. The last thing she wanted was to endure another three hours of classes. She was enjoying Jack's company immensely, and bitterly wished she'd found someone like him before Cal. However, her mother would probably have never allowed it, as Jack wasn't in their social class. Not that it mattered to Rose in the least.

"You hardly ate anything, Jack," she pointed out, as he crumpled up his sandwich bag. "Are you feeling okay?"

He stiffened, tossing the trash into the can a few feet away. "I'm fine. I'm just not that hungry," he replied in a cool voice, which told her to get off of that subject immediately.

"All right." Rose wet her lips. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then." She swung her backpack over her shoulders, grunting at the weight.

"How about if I see you after work on tonight? Maybe we can go out to dinner and you can come over my house. We can watch movies or something. My mom and dad would love to meet you, I'm sure."

"Do you drive?" Rose asked, and Jack nodded. "Oh! I didn't know." She smiled. "I was looking for you earlier this morning, and was hoping to offer you a ride to school."

He shrugged. "I actually overslept and missed my alarm." He grinned. "So, what time do you work 'til?"

"Seven. I work 3:30 to seven," she replied, and he grinned.

"Great! I'll see you then."

Rose nodded. "Well, maybe I should give you my phone number before you go. My mom usually keeps our name out of the book." She grabbed a notebook from her bag and tore a piece of paper from it, jotting down the information. Jack accepted the sheet and then gave her a small hug.

"It was nice to see you again, Rose. I'll talk to you later."

She felt her heart fluttering madly as she watched him hurry away, and it took her a minute or two before she could gather her wits and follow him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

When school finally let out for the afternoon, Rose dashed out of the classroom, making a quick stop at a vending machine for a snack. It was 2:45, and as she had to be at work in Moreno Valley at 3:30. She wouldn't have time to stop at home first. She set her soda can in the cup holder after disposing of her backpack in the back seat, and swung her body into the driver's seat.

Once she started the engine, she pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the freeway. As she drove, she thought about the pending evening with Jack, and then came the time she would have to call her mother and let her know of her plans. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse, dialed her home number, and pressed the device to her ear.

After four rings, the answering machine came on, and Rose groaned inwardly. She had a bad feeling her mother would not approve of her going out with a boy from the slums that she hardly knew, but it was only fair to say something about it. "Hey, Mom," she began, once the traditional beep gave her the cue to start her message. "I'm on my way to work right now. I won't be home for dinner…our new neighbor's son invited me out, so I accepted. I guess you're at work or something, so I'll see you when I get home. Bye!" She turned off the cell and put it back into her purse, blowing out her breath. "Oh, boy," she muttered quietly, eventually turning onto the street that would lead her to the enormous warehouse.

* * *

Jack, meanwhile, arrived home around 3:15, grateful when his house came into view. He pulled into the driveway, leaning his forehead wearily against the steering wheel after turning the engine off. He felt completely drained, despite all of the sleep he'd been getting over the past couple of weeks.

He still couldn't believe he'd slept past his alarm that morning, even after going to bed by nine o'clock the night before. His mother was on her way down the hall when she heard the noise blaring from his room, and peeped in to see him still buried under the covers.

_"Jack?" Lorraine Dawson entered the slightly messy room, turning the alarm off before giving her son a gentle shake. He merely groaned, pulling his blankets further over his head. "It's already 8:30. Were you planning on going to school today?"_

_Jack instantly shot up in bed, his blond hair all over the place. "Mom!" he cried, and she touched his shoulder, trying to stop the pending panic._

_"Relax. If you're sick, you can stay home, but if not, I'd hit the road right now." She felt his forehead just to be safe, and was relieved to find that he felt normal._

_"No. I'm okay," Jack insisted, struggling to slide out of bed. "I just can't believe I did that." He scurried around the room, throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt._

_"Don't forget to brush your hair." Lorraine laughed as he prepared to leave the room, and he gave her a look that most teenage boys typically give their parents when it comes to the subject of personal grooming. He ran his fingers through it, smoothing it down._

_"How is that?" he asked, and she sighed._

_"Fine," she replied. "Is all of your homework done for today?"_

_"Yes, Mom," Jack groaned, pecking a quick kiss on her cheek before saying good-bye. She stood in the center of the room, listening to the sound of his footsteps down the hall. Once the front door opened and closed with a click, she finished preparing her things for work._

Jack eventually lifted his head, grabbed his books from the passenger seat, and then dragged his aching body from the vehicle. Neither of his parents were home yet, and wouldn't be for at least another two or three hours. He could probably get a quick nap in before going to meet Rose, and he could not get to bed fast enough.

* * *

Rose finally reached Sam's Club at 3:20 and dashed through the sliding double doors. She noticed her slightly heavyset manager, Marietta, speaking in her thick Mexican accent to someone on the telephone. And, judging by her current attitude towards the person, it was clearly an employee calling out.

Marietta eventually groaned and nearly slammed the phone down on its hook, catching Rose just before she slipped away towards the break room staircase. "Thank God you're here, Rose. That was Angelina, and she called out again. We're already short two cashiers, so I don't know what I'm gonna do." She raised her arms in frustration, and Rose fought back a retort she thought of at that moment.

"Well, I have to be out at seven, Marietta. I can't stay late tonight." Usually, the manager managed to convince Rose to stay for an extra hour, or possibly more, on nights they were particularly busy. Especially on weekends, when the customers seemed to have nothing better to do than storm the warehouse.

Marietta folded her arms and blew a strand of hair away from her eyes. "Why?" she asked. "You have a hot date?"

Rose smirked. "I guess you could say so."

She snickered. "Uh-huh. I guess that pigheaded novio of yours would be merciless if you were late. Okay…well, I'll see what I can do for you. You're one of the few employees in this joint who actually makes an attempt to come to work every day."

Rose was about to tell Marietta that she was not indeed going out with her pigheaded boyfriend, but with someone she was pretty certain most of her co-workers would adore. However, the last thing she wanted to do was to stir her boss anymore than she was already ruffled. The reason Marietta knew of Rose's current ex-boyfriend at all was because Cal had been a former employee of the club. He was fired for having an attitude problem, which included talking back to customers and even yelling at a check-out supervisor-or COS, as they were more commonly called. _Barely worked a month, the rat, _Rose thought, sour over the fact that she had referred him to Sam's when he'd come asking her opinion of where he could get a part-time job.

"Well, what are you waiting for, chica? Go, go! We need you down here, okay?" She pretended to usher Rose away with her hands, and watched as the girl dashed away.

Rose eventually made it into the break room, which was filled with four long white tables connected together. Several chairs sat at each one, and there were vending machines, a microwave, a refrigerator, and a sink with soap and paper towels. "Hey, Rose." The assistant manager, Susan, waved as she came out of the office. "Marietta was nearly ready to have a fit earlier today. You are lucky you're here." She winked, and Rose smiled, walking over to her locker to retrieve her red vest and badge.

Though the job as a cashier often grew tedious, Rose enjoyed it nonetheless. Everyone who worked in the store-besides Cal when he was still there-treated each other with respect and were as kind as could be. Rose even went out with several of them afterwards on certain weekends, and considered at least two to be fairly good friends.

"Hey, Jessica!" Rose called to the COS at the podium. Jessica, who was busy poring over a book of store item codes, lifted her head and gave a rather exhausted wave.

"Hey. You can go on register 5," she explained. "Why do you look so perky?"

"Well, I don't know if I should tell you or not," Rose whispered, "but I broke up with Cal last night."

Jessica gasped, straightening up instantly. "No shit?" she squeaked, checking on either side of her for a possible customer who might have overheard. "Did you tell Marietta?"

"Are you kidding? The woman looks ready to blow a gasket!"

"Damn," Jessica grinned. "Well, the idiot had it coming, anyway. How'd he take it?"

"You broke up with Cal? You go, girl!" Stephanie pumped her fist in the air from where she'd just come out from her register.

"Is this a social gathering or what?" Marietta asked, and all three co-workers stiffened as she approached them.

"I suppose you didn't hear the news, Mar," Jessica whispered, "but…" She whispered it into Marietta's ear, and Rose slapped her hand against her forehead. Marietta's eyes grew large, and her mouth hung open after a moment or two.

"No kidding!" She put her hands on her hips, and cocked her head to the side. "I'm impressed!"

Rose snorted. "I'm impressed I waited so long."

"Well, good thing you did that, Rose. But—who are you going out with tonight? You wasted no time fetching another, mmm?" She winked, and Rose snorted.

"It's not really a boyfriend," she admitted, accepting her handful of stamps to put inside of her drawer. "He's my new neighbor. My mom and I just moved to Perris."

Marietta nodded in understanding. "He cute?" she asked, and Rose shrugged.

"I guess you could say that."

"Well, bring the boy in so we can all get a look, eh?" She clucked her tongue in a playful sound, and urged Rose to begin working.

"He said his parents were members," Rose called, and flipped her light on, changing the sign from Closed to Open.

As she worked, she found she was going through the motions moreso than usual. Her mind was on Jack and what she would say to him at dinner that night. Would she tell him everything? Everything that provoked her to want to jump off of the rocks? She knew it would be a very awkward situation, even for her, who was usually very comfortable at getting to know new people. _Oh, my God, _she thought, smiling wearily at the next customer who came through her line.

The hours dragged on, and Rose spent her free time chatting happily with her other co-workers. Half of the store knew Cal, which was no surprise at all to her, and were thrilled that she'd broken up with him. And, to make matters more nerve-wracking, all of them wanted to meet this Jack who was coming to meet her.

"He's not my new boyfriend," Rose insisted on her halfway break. She sat at one of the tables with Rebecca, Steven, and Lauren.

"Well, that's what they all say." Lauren winked.

"You are really impossible. Do you know that?"

"That's what we're here for." Rebecca chuckled. "To make your life even more complicated than it already is."

"Welcome to Sam's," Steven added, and sent all four of them laughing.

At ten of seven, the COS released Rose from her register and sent her upstairs to count down her drawer. After handing the money bag to the girl in the cash office, Rose dropped her work items off, grabbed her purse, checked her cell for any messages, and then ran at full speed back down the steps.

"I'm coming with you," Marietta teased, tagging along behind as Rose hurried towards the exit door.

Rose turned to her. "All right. I'll make a deal. As soon as he comes, I'll bring him in for a few minutes. Do I get a bonus for this, by the way?"

Marietta let out a huff. "You wish! Well, we'll be waiting!" She made kissing noises, and Rose was half-tempted to flip her off. She left the building, standing on the pavement. It dawned on her at that moment that she had absolutely no idea what Jack's car looked like. _Damn, _she thought, fiddling anxiously with her purse.

She eventually spotted a familiar figure walking towards her and felt her heart leap into her throat. "Jack!" she called, waving frantically, and he waved back. When they met up, they stood a few inches apart, not quite sure whether a hug was appropriate at this point or not. "Don't worry, Rose. It's not a crime to hug somebody when you haven't seen them…"

"For more than a few hours?" Rose winked, embracing him gently. "Oh, my co-workers are dying to see you, and I might get fired if I don't show you off. So, you don't mind a few moments of petty humiliation, do you? They're perfectly harmless, I assure you."

Jack grinned. "I didn't see this coming." He agreed, and Rose led him inside.

"Ah-ha!" Marietta called, pointing a finger. "He's blond! I had a feeling!"

Jack and Rose looked at each other, biting their lips to keep from laughing. "Jack, this is my boss, Marietta." Marietta shook hands with him.

"If you're ever looking for a job, please don't hesitate to apply here," she added, and Jack smirked.

"Thanks," he replied. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Have fun," Marietta called, and several of Rose's co-workers giggled and whispered to one another from their registers. Rose stuck her tongue out at them and waved, feeling her stomach fluttering with butterflies as Jack led her outside.

"So, where would you like to eat?" he asked. "Since we both are driving, you can follow me, because I'm pretty familiar with the main restaurants."

Rose shrugged. "Wherever you want to eat is fine with me," she added, feeling as though her voice was shaking.

"Sizzler's pretty good. It's one of those typical restaurants, if you know what I mean."

"Sure," Rose replied, and pointed to the employee parking lot. "I'm parked over there. Where are you?"

"Just back there. I'll pull up in front of the building and you just pull in behind me," he suggested, and she nodded.

"Sounds good. See you in a few." She pulled her keys out of her purse and made her way to her car. As she sat down in the driver's seat, her cell phone rang. _Oh, shit, _she thought, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on the steering wheel. No doubt her mother had just gotten home, and was probably calling to attempt to talk her out of going to dinner with Jack.

Rose fumbled for the tiny cell in her bag and flipped the top, placing it against her ear. "Yes, Mother?" she asked icily, and Ruth exploded.

"Are you out of your mind, Rose? I haven't even met this boy, and who knows what he's like? A boy like—like that? You dump Cal, and go for the first piece of trash that comes along!"

Rose narrowed her eyes. "He is far from trash, Mother. And it was a nice gesture, so I took his offer." She wasn't about to lose her head with her mom, not when she was just about to enjoy herself in Jack's company.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Rose. If you end up pregnant, don't come crying to me."

"Oh, Mother, shut up!" Rose snapped. "I am old enough to make my own choices, and I don't need you judging every one of my friends that aren't of our social status!"

"How dare you…" Ruth spat.

"I am going out to dinner with Jack," Rose replied sharply. "And I will see you later."

"Rose!" Ruth hissed, and Rose hung up, breathing hard. She shoved the phone back into her purse, started the engine, and began to pull slowly away towards the spot she was meeting Jack.

Once they pulled out of the busy parking lot, she turned the on the music, rolling down the windows. The warm, dry breeze ruffled her curls, and she bobbed her head to the beat of the song. Jack, noticing this through his rearview mirror, smirked as he headed in the direction of Perris High School. Sizzler was right across the street from their school, and they eventually reached the shopping center.

Rose took a deep breath as she followed him through the narrow parking lot pathways until she found an empty space right in front of the restaurant. She sat for a moment after turning off the engine and attempted to gather her wits.

"You're just like me." She heard Jack's voice as he approached her vehicle, and she glanced up at him with a small smile and laughed. "When I'm in that kind of mood, I mean," he added, and winked, offering his hand, which she accepted after she opened the door.

"Thanks," she told him, fetching her purse and pulling it over her shoulder. He led the way towards the front door of the restaurant and held it for her. "Thanks again." She chuckled, stepping inside. Sizzler was a hopping joint, with round tables, booths, and a typical salad bar area. Families of all sizes and races gathered there. Some had young children and some did not, but they were all either chatting happily or merely enjoying their food.

A hostess greeted them cheerfully and showed them the menu on the wall.

"I've never been in here," Rose admitted to Jack, and it really was a shame. Her parents preferred the more elite types of restaurants, ones that required fancy dress and over-the-top manners. Rose thanked the hostess after telling her that they needed a few minutes to decide and nodded after she explained that they should make their orders at the counter when they were ready.

When Rose turned to Jack, she noticed that his pale complexion, if possible, seemed even paler than when she'd seen him at school earlier that day. The dark circles remained under his eyes, and she couldn't help but feel a small pang of concern for him in her stomach. _I wonder if the flu's going around? _she thought, fiddling with the corner of her napkin.

"My mom called before we left Sam's," she suddenly spoke up, causing Jack to raise his head. He cocked his head to one side, clearly a little confused by the sudden statement.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Well, I guess you could say so. I haven't really seen her in almost a day and a half…"

"How come?" Jack peered at the appetizers. He still didn't feel very hungry, and was ready to settle for something from the salad bar.

"Oh…we just keep missing each other. I…uh…I broke up with my boyfriend last night, and she hasn't quite forgiven me for it. We've kind of avoided each other for a bit."

They made their way to the counter. A man in his late twenties greeted them, pen poised over his notepad. He smiled at them. "Hello," he greeted. "Welcome to Sizzler. What would you like to order?"

Jack and Rose placed their orders and made their way to a corner table. "Why would she be upset if you broke up with someone you didn't care for?" Jack didn't understand. He would have thought Rose's mom would approve of her making her own choices.

"Well, you know, my mother is very…er…overprotective of me, I guess you could say. We came from a very wealthy place in society, and she really thinks I should date within my status." Rose made a face, and Jack laughed.

"Who were you dating before?" he asked out of curiosity, half-relieved to know she was now single.

"I'm not sure if you've heard of him or not…you probably have, though…" Rose took a deep breath. "Cal Hockley."

Jack nearly spit out a mouthful of his Sprite.

"Are you serious? You were dating Cal?" he asked, finding it very hard to believe that Rose would go for someone as arrogant and selfish as him.

Rose raised her arms innocently and sighed. "It was a huge mistake from the start," she continued, following Jack to the salad bar

"I'm just going to have some salad, but there's soup and chicken wings and other stuff if you're hungry."

Rose blinked in surprise. "Are you sure? You hardly ate anything at lunch today. I'm surprised you aren't starving!"

Jack looked decidedly uncomfortable, so she didn't say anything further about it. "I don't know. I just don't feel like anything big."

"Now, what were you saying?" Jack asked after they sat down, stirring the ice in his glass absentmindedly.

"I was saying it was a big mistake," Rose continued, wondering why she was so suddenly pouring her heart out to a boy she'd just met last night. All through work that afternoon, she'd thought about how she was going to approach him, and here she was, going right to the heart of her problems. _He just has that essence_, she thought with a raise of her eyes. _He just looks at you and you want to start telling him everything. Well, _she added, _don't lose your head, Rose_. She cleared her throat, sipping from her Coke. "I don't know. My mom and dad knew his parents, and his dad worked with my dad. My dad was an accountant."

Jack frowned. "Was?"

Rose lowered her head, feeling her throat choke up. "My dad died a few months ago in a car accident," she explained, and Jack instantly felt guilty for asking.

"Oh, man," he breathed. "I'm sorry, Rose. I didn't mean to pry…"

Rose shook her head. "It's okay," she admitted, and Jack leaned back in his booth, starting to put two and two together. It was slowly starting to make sense…why he found her contemplating jumping from the cliff. To lose a parent so suddenly was indeed traumatic, and could mess with anyone's emotions. Jack knew this situation himself, having lost both of his birth parents in a horrible fire when he was just a baby. His mother and father had adopted him after rescuing him from the flame-filled house, and only when he was about eleven did they reveal he truth of his upbringing. However, he didn't feel it quite necessary to jump in and tell Rose this yet…he would wait until she finished her story, or whenever another appropriate time occurred.

"Well, anyway…my mom kept insisting that Cal would be perfect for me, so she kind of…I don't know, set us up on a date. I found him actually quite charming at first, and was immediately drawn to him. For the first few months, it honestly wasn't that bad of a relationship…he treated me like a queen."

Jack nodded in understanding. One thing he knew he would never be able to do was to shower Rose with expensive gifts, something she was probably used to in her previous social status. He was certain the move from Menifee to their mediocre street in Perris was a rather big blow to her and her mother. Rose continued, and Jack listened intently, his blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"But then," Rose began yet again, though this time her voice started trembling a little, "he really started to change. Especially after he became captain of the Paloma Valley High School football team."

Yes, that was how Jack knew him best. He was often talked about in the hallway, and certainly the news he heard was not pleasant. Cal had beaten up more than one Perris High football player, and was known for his foul mouth during the games. "I'm surprised you stayed with him for as long as you did," Jack told Rose, and she looked at him, her eyes full of frustration. Not with him, but with the stress in her current life in general.

"I know." She sighed heavily. "Well, he became really possessive, and he…" She swallowed, feeling one or two tears to fall from her eyes. "He did hit me last night."

Jack felt his heart nearly stop in mid-beat as he watched Rose begin to cry, and was at first at a loss as to what to do. He certainly wasn't prepared for this, but he wanted to do what he could to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Rose apologized, sniffing and leaning back against her booth. "I didn't mean to just start telling you my life story, but…I've just been really stressed out lately. Cal didn't take my leaving him very well, as you could well guess, and my mother thinks I should have compromised with him, but Jack, I couldn't stand it anymore. I just couldn't!" She at last buried her face in her arms and began weeping.

Jack sat staring at her, feeling absolutely terrible. He slid out from his side of the table and came over to hers, wrapping an arm comfortingly over her shoulder. "I'm acting like a total idiot," Rose choked, and he stroked her hair.

"No, you're not," he insisted. "Rose, I'm glad you told me this. I'm glad you felt comfortable opening up to me, because, well…a lot of people think I'm a little weird, and usually most of the time give me strange looks."

Rose raised her head, using her napkin got wipe her eyes. "You? Weird?" she snorted.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked, glad that none of the other customers were really paying them any mind. Many of them were too involved in their own conversations, or focusing on the sports on television.

Rose shook her head. "No," she told him, her eyes stinging from the tears. "No, I'll be okay. Thanks, Jack." She allowed him to hug her. "I really didn't mean to lose it. I've just been so stressed out for these past few months, with my dad dying, the move, breaking up with Cal…thank God you were there last night when I was trying to throw myself off of the cliff, Jack."

He managed a grin. "My pleasure, Rose." He squeezed her hand confidently and went to sit back in his seat. Rose gazed at her salad for a few moments, almost blankly, and felt her appetite slowly returning again.

"Wow. This looks good." She managed to laugh once she took a proper breath, and Jack nodded.

"I always liked Sizzler. My parents took me here a lot when I was younger." He gazed around, his eyes focusing on the basketball game on the television for a second.

"So, Jack, I may just have to challenge you to a few hoops sometime," Rose teased. "Just so you can prove to me how good you are."

Jack grinned. "You like to play?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Occasionally, but I'm really not very good."

"Well, it's a challenge, then." He winked at her.

Jack and Rose spent the next hour or so eating and chatting, and parted ways around nine o'clock. They followed each other home, and Rose never felt happier as she pulled into the driveway of her house. She watched as Jack pulled into his own driveway, and waved to him as she practically skipped towards the front step and walked inside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_August 21, 2004_

"Playing hooky again?"

Jack opened his eyes slowly as his mother's voice roused him from sleep. In spite of having gone to bed shortly after getting home the night before, he was still exhausted. His body ached all over, and a faintly queasy feeling lay in the pit of his stomach.

He pulled the sheet up a little, not wanting her to see the new bruise on his arm that he'd gotten playing basketball at P.E. the previous afternoon. She fussed over him every time he got the slightest injury—and this was a particularly ugly bruise, the result of a classmate slamming into him.

"What?" He turned his eyes to her slowly, feeling so tired that he simply wanted to fall asleep again.

"Jack, it's almost second period. Look at the time."

He turned slowly to look at his alarm clock, which he'd forgotten to set. 8:40. School had started almost an hour ago.

"Shit!" He clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, Mom."

"Jack, this is the second day in a row this has happened. Tell me the truth. Are you feeling sick again?"

Jack tried to get up, but his aching body protested the movement, and his stomach lurched. He lay back down, pulling the sheet over himself.

"A little bit." He gave Lorraine a sheepish look. "I think it was something I ate."

"What?" His mother looked at him skeptically.

"Sushi," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Sushi," he said again, more clearly this time.

Lorraine sighed, putting a hand to her face and shaking her head. "Jack, what did we tell you about eating things that might not be safe?"

"Well, Joanna was eating it, and she kind of talked me into it…"

"Jack…" Lorraine sighed. "When is your next doctor's appointment?"

"Uh…next week," he lied, unwilling to admit that he hadn't seen a doctor since May.

"Good. I'm worried about you. You're acting just like the last two times you—"

"I'm fine." Jack cut her off. "I just ate some bad sushi, is all. Meg was smart—she didn't want to eat it."

"So you're staying home today?"

"Yeah. I just don't feel up to going to school. Besides, I don't think my teachers would like it if I puked in class." He gave her a small smile.

"No, probably not…but Jack, you need to get up and go to school in the morning. Mr. Bennett kindly asked you to be his TA, and you need to show up. Either that, or you need to let someone else be his TA. Don't leave him in a lurch."

"I know, Mom…I just overslept yesterday and then ate that awful sushi at lunch. I'll be better by tomorrow."

"I hope so. If you're not feeling better, I'll take you to Urgent Care."

Jack shook his head. "I'll be fine. It's just been a weird couple of days."

"Nevertheless…"

"Mom, won't you be late for work if you don't leave now? Traffic is bad, you know, especially on Fourth Street and Perris Boulevard."

Lorraine put a hand on her son's forehead. "Take a couple of Tylenol, Jack, okay? I think you're running a fever." She straightened. "I'll see you this afternoon. There's some fresh ginger in the refrigerator if your stomach keeps bothering you."

"Thanks, Mom." Jack pulled the sheet back up, his eyes drooping sleepily. "See you later."

After Lorraine had left, Jack stretched uncomfortably, trying to ease the aching in his joints. Maybe some Tylenol would help…but later. He was too sleepy to get up now.

Besides, he had to better by tomorrow. He didn't want his mother taking him to Urgent Care and discovering that he didn't even have a regular doctor anymore.

He didn't need one. He was cured. If he hadn't been cured, then he would have been referred to a new doctor when he outgrew pediatrics. Besides, he had passed his physical in May, and if that didn't mean he was well, what did?

He wasn't sick again. The symptoms he was experiencing had other explanations. The bruises were from basketball practice and from Rose falling on him the other night. He was tired because he was doing a lot of things—just like a lot of other teenagers. He wasn't hungry because he'd eaten that awful sushi. Why Joanna thought it was so wonderful, he didn't know.

There was nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

Rose looked up as the doorbell rang. It was almost nine o'clock, and she was almost finished with her calculus homework. Setting her pencil aside gratefully, she hurried to answer the door before her mother could get there first.

"Jack!" Rose grinned when she saw him. He was leaning against the stucco wall outside the door, poised to ring the doorbell again.

"Hi. Uh…can I come in?"

"Sure. I'm almost done with my homework. Calculus is the worst."

He nodded. "I'm not much for math, either…I got through geometry and decided I'd had enough." He followed her into the house.

"I didn't see you at school today." Rose looked at him more closely. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes.

"Yeah…I didn't feel too good. I think it was that sushi…that's why I wasn't hungry yesterday."

"Joanna wasn't looking too bright today, either…Meg kept teasing her, but Joanna said it wasn't the sushi…neither of us believed her, though."

Ruth chose that moment to poke her head around the corner. "Rose? Who's at the door?" She stopped when she saw Jack.

Rose took a deep breath, wishing the confrontation didn't have to come at this time. "Uh…Mom, this is Jack Dawson. He lives next door…"

"Oh. Is he the one you went out with last night?"

"Um…yeah. Yeah, he is."

Ruth looked him over critically. "Well…it's nice to meet you, I suppose."

"Mom!" Rose hissed, embarrassed. Couldn't her mother at least be nice when she met him?

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater." Jack shifted uncomfortably.

"So, you're Rose's new boyfriend," Ruth went on, ignoring his greeting. "Where did you take her last night?"

"Mom, he's not—"

Ruth shot Rose a look that warned her to be quiet. "What did you do? Take her to one of those…what do you call them? Mash pits?"

"Mom, they're called mosh pits, and no. He took me to Sizzler, across the street from the high school."

"Rose…" Ruth narrowed her eyes at her. "I asked him, not you."

Rose clenched her teeth angrily, but Ruth went on before she could say anything.

"What do you do, then? Get into fights? I can't think of any other reason you'd have so many bruises."

Jack stiffened. "I play basketball," he told Ruth coolly. "I admit we're not the best team around, but we do try."

"Mom, leave him alone." Rose's face was flaming. She couldn't believe her mother was being so rude to someone she'd barely met.

"Rose, I'm looking out for you. You've suddenly found a new boyfriend and you haven't even introduced him to me…"

"Mom! He's not my boyfriend. We're just friends right now."

"Right now?" Ruth arched an eyebrow at her.

Rose looked down, wishing she could sink through the floor and disappear. She didn't know if Jack wanted to be more than friends. She wished she hadn't said anything—and she wished that her mother wouldn't make an issue of it.

"We're just friends, Mrs. DeWitt-Bukater," Jack told Ruth, trying to get Rose out of her embarrassing spot. "And I don't get into a lot of fights or anything. I just play basketball—and sometimes it gets a little rough when we're all trying to get the ball at the same time. Besides, I live next door, and it's always good to get to know your neighbors."

Ruth looked at him disbelievingly, but nodded. "All right, Jack. As long as things don't get too serious without my knowledge, Rose can continue to see you. But she just started at a new school and broke up with her boyfriend, so you'd better not hurt her or introduce her to a bad crowd."

Rose had been staring at her mother in amazement as she spoke until her last statement. Then she ducked her head again. Of course her mother would think that Jack would introduce her to a bad crowd! As far as Ruth was concerned, poor and working class people always got into trouble. She could tell Ruth a thing or two about the kind of trouble middle class and rich kids got into, but she doubted she would believe her. A person was faced with "bad crowds" wherever they went, regardless of how much money they had.

Rose shook her head. "Mom, do you mind if Jack and I go for a walk? We won't be long."

"I'd rather you didn't, Rose. Why don't you just go out in the front yard if you want to talk?"

Rose sighed. "Okay, Mom. We won't go anywhere."

When they were outside, Rose turned to Jack apologetically. "I'm sorry she acted that way, Jack. She's been very bitter about this move, and she takes it out on people. We used to live in a big house in a neighborhood with a homeowner's association that made sure everyone conformed to certain standards, and she doesn't like living here, in a smaller house in an old neighborhood. She thinks it's trashy, but it was all she could afford after paying all the bills Dad left behind. They really got into debt trying to keep up with everybody's else status symbols, and after Dad's car accident, the creditors wanted their money right away."

"So she had to sell her McMansion and move to a real neighborhood, huh?" Jack stopped. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was mean."

"But true. The people I knew when I lived there…it was so shallow, Jack. Everyone was worried about looking just right and having fancy houses and perfect yards and making sure their kids had everything…and so many kids were spoiled brats because of that. Cal is a perfect example of that. His dad buys him everything he wants because he feels guilty about never being there, and even though Cal is irresponsible and doesn't appreciate what he has, his dad just keeps buying him more and giving him money and everything. Cal wrecked his first car when he drove too fast and got into an accident, and his dad just bought him another—and Cal hasn't learned a thing."

"What about your parents? Are they that way?"

"Not as much. Mom would like to be that way, but we can't afford it now, and Dad was always a bit more practical. He didn't have such a sense of entitlement and always thought I needed to learn the value of things. That's why I drive a Saturn instead of a luxury car like a lot of the kids in my old neighborhood. Dad didn't think a luxury car was appropriate for a newly licensed teenager. But I've taken good care of the Saturn. I only scratched the side once, backing into a fence, and I had to pay to get it fixed myself, which taught me to be more careful."

"I've noticed that about some middle class people—they're so concerned with what's going on in their own world that they don't stop to see what's going on outside it, and people pay so much attention to what's on the surface that they don't see the problems underneath—or when they do see them, they want them swept under the rug."

"Yeah. Some of the kids I knew got into so many things that were bad—drugs, violence, things like that—and the parents were never around to notice. Most of them were commuting to jobs in Orange County or San Diego or LA, and they were never around to see what their kids were doing. Middle class kids can get into as much trouble as anybody else. It's just hidden, and if you talk about it, you're the bad guy—not the people causing the trouble."

Jack nodded. "Uh-huh. My mom's a social worker right here in Perris, and she knows a lot about the things that go on. And my dad's a high school English teacher in Murrieta—he gets really tired of dealing with parents who think their kids can do no wrong. It seems like nobody wants to know what's going on until something really bad happens. Then they overreact, and everyone suffers, even the kids who weren't getting into trouble, and the people in charge look for scapegoats and usually get the wrong people."

"I know. And it never seems to stop, either. Something bad happens, and people react with shock and horror—and then they forget…until it happens again."

"Until it gets to where they can't ignore it anymore." Jack sat down on the front step, inviting Rose to sit beside him. Changing the subject, he asked, "Rose, what did you mean when you said that we're just friends 'right now'?"

Rose blushed. "I…uh…well…I…"

"Do you…uh…want to be more than friends?"

"I…um…well…maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I don't know. I just broke up with Cal, and that was awful. And we only just met."

"Okay." Jack ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I…uh…I came over to ask if you'd like to go to the movies with me tomorrow after you're done with work. I tried calling," he went on, "but I got a busy signal."

"Mom was on the phone, talking to my aunt in Pennsylvania."

"Oh. I tried your cell phone, too, but I couldn't get through there, either."

"I had it turned off so I could work on my homework."

"Sorry. Maybe I should have waited until tomorrow to call you."

"No, it's okay. I was almost done with my homework anyway—I like to get it done as early as I can so I won't have to work on it over the weekend—and I needed a break anyway. Besides, I like you."

Jack grinned. "I like you, too. So…do you want to go to a movie tomorrow night?"

"Sure. That'll be fun." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Uh…Jack…about being more than friends…why don't we give it time and see what happens? I'd like to get to know you better…"

"Sure. I…uh…" There were reasons why he'd never let any relationship get very serious, but he didn't want to bring them up now. "You're right. Let's see how things go."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_September 17, 2004_

Over the weeks that followed, Rose found herself enjoying Jack's presence more and more. He was nothing like Cal—he wasn't overwhelmingly arrogant, he didn't pressure her for sex—in fact, he seemed to be a little shy about the whole subject, though she had peeked at his portfolio and found some drawings of nude women, some of whom seemed to be scarred or missing body parts, especially limbs.

She had caught a ride with him to and from school for a couple of days when her car in the shop getting a tune-up, and she had noticed right away that he was a much more responsible driver than Cal. He actually waited for it to be safe before pulling out into the street, and when someone walked in front of his car, he stopped and waited instead of honking his horn insistently and coming close to hitting them. He told her that he had seen a bad accident once where someone had been hit by a car, and it had given him a healthy appreciation for what a car could do to a human being.

Rose appreciated the fact that Jack thought of things beyond himself. So many kids seemed to feel that if it didn't directly affect them, it wasn't worth thinking about, but Jack had a broader worldview, and he was more than happy to show her the things he cared about. She had fun with him, and enjoyed many of the quirky things other kids thought were weird.

Ruth still didn't quite approve, and Rose knew it, but they had maintained a tentative peace since the night Jack had come to visit, with Rose not challenging her mother over every little thing and Ruth in turn keeping quiet about Rose's growing relationship with the boy next door.

Jack, too, was enjoying being with Rose, though the closer they got, the more uncomfortable he grew with keeping certain secrets from her. She had been very open and honest with him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to be the same with her. He hadn't told her that he was adopted—though it really wasn't that big a deal to him anymore. He had no issues over being rejected by his birth parents—they hadn't meant to die, leaving behind an infant son—and he knew who his other blood relatives were. The parents who had raised him had emphasized that they didn't love him any less because he wasn't born to them—rather, he had been a special child who had come along at a time when they had learned that they would probably never have children of their own. No matter what happened, he was their son.

But it wasn't just the fact that he was adopted that he hadn't told her about. He carefully skirted around anything that might lead to a discussion of his childhood illness. It was something that was over and done with—he hoped—and a lot of kids had treated him like a freak when they found out about it. He didn't want the same treatment now from Rose or anyone else.

One Friday evening in September, Rose came to his house for dinner and then went out into the back yard with him to sit on the porch swing. His parents were far more approving of Rose than Rose's mother was of him, so she often came to his house.

They rocked back and forth gently, holding hands, until Jack looked through the sliding glass door into the house and determined that his parents weren't watching them. Then, smiling, he slid closer to Rose and pulled her into his arms. Rose giggled.

"So, they finally went to watch TV instead of us?" she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Yep. Finally." Jack's parents liked Rose, but they had no desire to watch any displays of affection between the two, and would separate them whenever they got too close. Holding hands was fine, and so was the occasional hug, but anything more brought disapproving looks. Jack was sure they knew that he and Rose liked to sit outside and kiss, which they tolerated, but they didn't want to watch.

Rose turned and kissed him, a smile spreading across her face when he returned the gesture. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her and his mouth on hers. She moved her hands to his head, running her fingers through his blond hair.

When they broke apart for a moment, Rose took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to tell him how she had grown to feel over the time they had known each other. When Jack leaned towards her again, she moved her head back, opening her mouth to tell him.

"Jack, I…" She hesitated.

"What? What is it, Rose?"

"I…" She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "I love you."

He pulled back from her, a strange look crossing his face.

Rose immediately felt stupid. "Jack…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said that. Just…just forget I ever said it. You obviously don't feel the same way…"

"No. No, it's not that. I do…I mean…but I can't…I shouldn't…"

"What?" Rose stared at him, confused. What was he saying? Then her eyes widened in shock. "Oh, my God. You're gay."

Jack gave her an astonished look. "What? No! No, I'm not." He ran his fingers through his hair, looking embarrassed. "I mean…if I were gay, why would I have been kissing you like that? No, that's not it at all."

"Then you don't return my feelings."

"No…I mean, yes…I do, but…"

Rose was staring at him. "Jack, you're confusing me. If I've embarrassed you…if you don't feel the same way about me…I can take it. That's life. It happens. I hope we can still be friends, though…"

"Rose…" Jack got up from the porch swing and went to the edge of the lawn, staring out into the darkness.

Rose followed and stood beside him. "Jack?" She put a hand on his arm. "What's going on?"

"Rose, I…" He turned to her. "I…I do love you. I have for a while, but…I shouldn't. It isn't right."

"Why? Is there someone else?"

"No, there's no one else." He scuffed his feet against the grass nervously. "I can't fall in love…it's not fair to you…"

"Why?"

He took a deep breath, stepping away and wrapping his arms around himself, wishing he didn't have to tell her.

"Rose…I have cancer."

Rose stared at him, stunned. "Cancer? Jack…my God…why didn't you tell me?"

"I…it never came up…and…I don't really have it right now…I'm in remission."

"What kind do…_did_…you have?"

"Leukemia. I've had it twice, first when I was eleven and then again when I was fifteen. I've been in remission since I was sixteen."

"But are you cured?"

"I think so…"

"You _think_ so?"

"Well, when I turned eighteen, I wasn't referred to a new oncologist, and I'm sure they would have if I still had leukemia."

"But isn't it supposed to be five years before they consider you cured?"

"Yes, but…I don't know." He sat down on the swing again. Rose sat next to him, resting her chin in her hand.

"Jack, why didn't you tell me you'd had cancer? You know pretty much everything about me…but you haven't told me much at all about yourself, it seems."

He sighed. "Rose…you've gotta understand…people look at me like I'm a freak when they find out I've had cancer. I mean, kids our age…a lot of them think that cancer's just something that happens to old people…but there's actually a lot of kids who get it. Some of those drawings in my portfolio…those are of people I've known who've had cancer. Some of them are gone now, in spite of being young. The cancer doesn't care."

"Jack…"

"Some kids have even thought they could catch it from me."

"Jack, I know you can't catch cancer. My grandmother had breast cancer, and I was around her a lot and never caught it. And I wouldn't think you're a freak. I thought you knew me better than that."

There was an edge to her voice. She had never been anything but honest with him, no matter what it was about, but he had been keeping his illness a secret from her. And it wasn't just a little secret, either, something that could be forgotten about.

"Rose, dammit…I didn't want you looking at me like I'm a freak."

"But I just said—"

"I know, but I could I know how you'd react? We've barely known each other a month."

"Have I ever given any indication that I thought you were a freak or something?"

"No, but that was before you knew—"

"Jack, I've always been honest with you, but apparently you don't feel the same need to be honest with me. What other secrets are you hiding?" she spat at him. "Next you're going to tell me you're adopted or something."

"Actually, I am."

Rose turned to stare at him. "My God. All that concern you showed for me…was it all an act? Were you just looking to see if anyone else had problems in their life? Did it make you feel better about yourself or something?"

"Rose, I do care! But this isn't something I like to talk about."

"Of course not. I've been doing all the talking anyway!"

"I've been understanding of you! Why can't you be more understanding of me and why _I don't want to talk about having cancer_?"

Rose got up, heading for the door. "Jack, I don't know what to think. I thought we trusted each other. I thought we had something, and now I found out you've been hiding something this important from me!" She slid the door open. "I'm going home. I need to think. Don't worry, though. I won't tell anyone your precious secret." She was in the door and across the living room before Jack could do more than step after her.

"Rose, wait!"

"Leave me alone, Jack. I don't think I want to be around you right now. Maybe, if you decide to be honest with me, we can try again."

She rushed through the kitchen and out the front door. Jack watched her go, then slowly went back outside and stared off into the dark yard, lost in thought.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_September 23, 2004_

Rose was civil to Jack during the week that followed, but she no longer went to his house or walked up to the hills with him. He tried calling her a couple of times, and she was polite, but the conversations were both short.

Jack hadn't realized how upset Rose would be that he hadn't told her about his illness, but she in turn refused to try to understand why he didn't want everyone to know about it. She had never been gravely ill, nor had anyone ever taunted her or ostracized her because of illness. She'd had the usual contagious diseases growing up—colds, stomach flu, influenza, chicken pox—but almost everyone got those; it wasn't a big deal. Cancer was a big deal—but she had never had it, and had never been in the position that Jack had found himself in twice in his eighteen years.

They nodded to each other politely in the halls and worked together when assigned to in English class, but the closest that either came to mentioning what had happened Friday night was when Jack fell asleep in art class and Rose asked him if he was okay, to which he responded by telling her crankily that he was fine. She didn't ask about his health again after that.

Rose missed being with him, but she wasn't sure she could trust him now. He knew seemingly everything about her, but she was realizing that she knew very little about him.

* * *

On Thursday afternoon, Jack dragged himself wearily to basketball practice. He would rather have gone home and taken a nap, but he'd skipped practice too many times already and was on probation. If he missed any more practices, he would be off the team.

He'd seen Rose briefly after school as she hurried off to work, but they hadn't spoken. He knew that she was still upset with him, but she seemed to be a little friendlier—she'd smiled at him briefly at lunch before turning back to her friends—and it gave him hope that she would give him another chance.

Right now, though, he had to concentrate on practice. Coach Ward blew his whistle, shouting at the milling team members to sit on the bleachers. After giving them some instructions, he had them count off into two teams and begin practice.

Jack avoided the coach as much as he could. Ward had been happy to pick him for the team during try-outs the previous spring, but as Jack had skipped more and more practices, the coach had been less and less happy with him. Jack knew that he was in a precarious position now, but sometimes he was so tired that it didn't seem to matter.

Still, he wanted to be on the team, and he wouldn't let a little tiredness get him kicked off. He would have to go to the practices from now on whether he felt like it or not, but it was worth it to have the chance to play on a real basketball team instead of just shooting hoops at lunch.

His parents hadn't allowed him to play on any sports teams when he was younger—the recurring leukemia had left him weak and easily injured. When he had been very young, he had played soccer and Little League baseball, but after he was diagnosed with leukemia for the first time at age eleven, his parents hadn't allowed him to join anymore teams. He could still play for fun, as long as it didn't get too rough, but they had felt—rightly so, on many occasions—that competitive sports were more than he could handle. He hadn't liked it, but there was nothing he could do.

Now, though, since he had passed his physical in May, they had reluctantly allowed him to join the boys' basketball team at the high school. His mother still worried, but his dad had told him that he was proud of how far he had come and how hard he was willing to work. They didn't know about the skipped practices or his constant fatigue now—and he didn't want them to find out.

Jack raced up and down the basketball court with his teammates, occasionally getting the ball away from the others and throwing it through the hoop. He was less tired now that he was running around, but his reflexes weren't great—as was amply demonstrated when a teammate tried to pass the ball to him and he missed it with his hands—but his face caught it perfectly.

Jack put a hand to his nose as it started bleeding. He tried to wipe it off and continue playing, but Coach Ward had seen it and blew his whistle.

"Jack! Off the court!" he yelled, gesturing to him.

Reluctantly, Jack went and sat down on the bleachers, pinching his nose shut to try to stop the bleeding.

"You okay?" Ward asked him.

Jack pulled his hand away from his nose for a moment, staring at the blood. "Yeah…I think so."

"Your nose is still bleeding. Go into the restroom and get some toilet paper for it."

Jack got up, pinching his nose shut again, and headed for the door to the boys' locker room. When he got to the bathroom, he grabbed some toilet paper and held it over his nose, staring into the mirror and groaning inwardly.

He could already tell that his face was going to be badly bruised. His mother would fuss over him and lecture him about his health, even though he had a perfectly good reason for the bruising, and his dad would frown and ask him if he was sure he was up to playing on a team.

Jack grimaced, holding the toilet paper more tightly against his nose. The bleeding had slowed, but it hadn't stopped yet. A hint of worry edged into his mind, but he pushed it away. It was just a nosebleed, caused by being hit hard in the face by a basketball. It wasn't a symptom of anything worse.

Ten minutes later, he carefully pulled the toilet paper away from his nose, relieved that the bleeding had finally stopped. He looked into the mirror, splashing water on his face to wash away the bloodstains from his upper lip and nose.

Jack grimaced as he noticed a couple of spots of blood on his shirt and the darkening bruise on his face. It was nothing to worry about, but his parents would undoubtedly give him the third degree when they noticed. He could wash the shirt himself, but the bruise couldn't be hidden.

Touching his nose carefully to make sure it was okay, he tossed the toilet paper in the trash and headed back to practice, more tired than he'd been before but knowing that he needed to get through it if he wanted to be on the team.

* * *

Jack fell asleep early that night, worn out from basketball practice. His parents had indeed fussed over his bruised face, in spite of his insistence that it was perfectly normal for a bruise to form after being hit in the face with a basketball. He didn't tell them about the nosebleed, and was glad when he heard them murmuring worriedly when he went off to bed at seven o'clock. He told them that he was going to stay up for a while, maybe IM his friends, but he was awakened by his mother looking in on him half an hour later and shaking her head worriedly. He quickly fell asleep again, assuring himself that there was nothing to worry about.

He awoke again at two o'clock in the morning, reaching in annoyance to wipe his runny nose. When it continued to run, he sat up, turning on the lamp beside his bed—and froze at what he saw.

His pillowcase and the edge of his top sheet were soaked with blood. He looked at his hand and found that it was bloody from where he'd wiped his nose. As he sat there, more blood dripped down his face, spattering onto his sheet and hands.

Groaning, he reached for the box of Kleenex sitting on the nightstand. Pulling one out, he pressed it to his nose, pinching it shut in an effort to stop the bleeding.

It didn't help. Jack let go of his nose after a moment as the blood started to build up inside. Grabbing several more tissues, he pressed them over his nose, hoping that the nosebleed would stop soon.

It didn't hurt much, but he could tell that he was losing a lot of blood. Briefly, he thought about waking his parents, but thought better of it. It was just a nosebleed—nothing more. Undoubtedly he'd put pressure on his nose where he'd hurt it earlier and that was why it was bleeding again.

Still, as time passed and his nose continued to bleed badly, he began to worry. Maybe it _was_ more than a simple nosebleed. Maybe he was more badly injured than he thought, or…

He pushed the thought away. The leukemia was not back. It couldn't be. He was in remission, or cured. He would have been referred to another oncologist if he wasn't better. He had nothing to worry about. He'd simply gotten hurt during basketball practice. It could happen to anyone.

The box of Kleenex was nearly empty by the time the bleeding finally stopped. Jack touched his nose carefully, confirming that it was no longer bleeding, then looked in consternation at the huge pile of blood-stained tissues. If either of his parents saw them, they would take him straight to the doctor no matter how loudly he protested.

He couldn't put them in the trash for fear that they would be found, but finally he gathered them up and got out of bed, staggering as his head swam dizzily. He sat back down for a moment, waiting until the dizziness had passed, then tried again.

He knew that he had lost too much blood, knew that he needed to wake his parents and get help, but he knew that they would take him straight to the emergency room—and as long as he avoided doctors, he could keep assuring himself that everything was fine.

_I'll feel better in the morning,_ he assured himself. _I've had nosebleeds before. It won't kill me. All I need is some sleep and maybe a glass of water. I don't think I've ever been so thirsty in my life._

Still stumbling dizzily, he made his way across the hall to the bathroom, throwing the entire pile of Kleenex into the toilet. It took several tries—and several uses of the plunger—before it all disappeared.

Jack was shaking by the time he stepped over to the sink and filled a cup with water. He felt slightly queasy now, but he took a small sip anyway, thirsty in spite of the queasiness. He looked into the mirror, recoiling at what he saw.

His face was as white as paper, except for the bruise, which looked darker than ever. He splashed some water on his face, rinsing away the remaining blood, then set the cup down. He swayed slightly as he turned to leave the bathroom, forgetting everything but the exhaustion that had come over him.

Jack leaned against the wall as he made his way back to his room. He nearly fell through the open door before he steadied himself, walking slowly and carefully back to his bed. He fell upon it and flipped the pillow over, hiding the blood-stained side, and then pulled the covers over himself, shivering in spite of the reasonably warm night.

He thought briefly of closing the window, but forgot about it as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was dizzy, thirsty, and cold, but his exhaustion mattered more than anything at the moment.

In moments, he fell into a troubled sleep, unaware of anything but his body's overwhelming exhaustion following the loss of so much blood.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_September 24, 2004_

Jack groaned as the alarm went off at 6:30, jarring him from sleep. It seemed like only moments had passed since he had closed his eyes.

Momentarily, he wished that he had his old clock radio back…he had often slept through that. But his mother had grown tired of explaining why he hadn't shown up at school on time and had bought him a loud clock that beeped irritatingly.

Sighing, he sat up slowly and reached over to the clock, turning the alarm off. He moved slowly, clutching the nightstand to steady himself as he stood. He still felt weak and dizzy, and a glance at his hands sent his heartbeat skyrocketing. His fingernails had a bluish tone, indicating how much blood he had lost a few hours earlier.

Carefully, he turned and pulled his comforter up over the blood-stained sheet—he would wash it when his parents weren't home. Still leaning against furniture and walls, he slowly dressed and made his way across the hall to the bathroom, where he looked in alarm at the bluish tint of his lips.

He wished he could stay home, but that would tip his parents off that something was wrong. He would go to school and try to take it easy, and be glad that there was no basketball practice this afternoon—the coach had other matters to attend to.

Jack tried to eat breakfast, but had very little appetite. After a few bites of cereal, he pushed the bowl away, knowing that he needed to eat more to regain his strength, but not having any appetite. He was thirsty enough to drink three glasses of water, then warned himself to stop, knowing that some of his teachers wouldn't give out restroom passes.

He made it to school on time, but just barely. It was a long walk from the parking lot to the principal's office, where he was a TA first period, and his textbooks seemed heavier than ever. Some students looked at him askance when they saw his clothes—he still felt cold, so he had worn jeans and a long-sleeved shirt over a t-shirt, even though temperatures were expected to be in the nineties.

After an hour at the photocopier, Jack was more exhausted than ever. He considered ditching second period, but the only place he could do that and relax was the library, and he knew that Miss Hulstrom would kick him out, since she knew he had a class. He finally went to class, but got there two minutes after the tardy bell rang, so he soon found himself dragging his way across campus to OCD.

At least he was allowed to rest there. No one cared what he did as long as he didn't cause trouble, but he was grateful that his next class was nearby when the teacher in charge of detention woke him three minutes before his next class.

He and Rose were still working on their assignment together in English. Rose smiled when she saw him, friendlier than she had been in several days, but her smile faded when she saw how pale he looked and the way he slouched exhaustedly in his seat.

"Jack…are you okay?" she asked, concerned in spite of his dislike of such questions.

Jack was too tired to object. "I'm…I'm fine," he assured her. "Just a little tired, is all."

Rose looked at him skeptically, taking in the bluish pallor of his lips and his too-heavy clothing. "Are you sure? You look awfully pale."

He shrugged, clearly not wanting to discuss it. He reached up to rub his aching nose, then stopped, afraid that it might start bleeding again.

Rose watched him worriedly for a moment, then opened a textbook and turned to their assignment.

"Jack?"

She turned to look at him when he didn't respond. His eyes were half-closed as he struggled to stay awake.

"Jack!"

"Huh?" He shook his head, trying to wake himself up. "What?"

"Did you finish your part of the assignment last night? It's due at the end of class."

"Oh…uh…no. I…um…I forgot." He'd fallen asleep before he could get any homework done.

"Jack! That's our grade!"

"Sorry." In fact, he hadn't brought the portion he had completed earlier in the week—it was still sitting on his desk at home.

"Jack, are you sure you're okay? You're usually more responsible than that."

Jack could think of several teachers who would disagree at this point, but didn't want to argue. "I said I was sorry."

Rose scowled at him. "Dammit, Jack…I just hope Mr. Carter gives me full credit for doing _my half of the work_!"

"Look, I'll try to get a little bit done right now. It's better than what some kids will do."

"Mr. Carter doesn't grade on a curve. It doesn't matter what the other kids do."

"Rose…I said I was sorry, okay?" She was beginning to make him feel cranky.

"Don't snap at me, Jack. I'm not the one who decided to abandon our project."

"Dammit, Rose…"

"Do I have to separate you two?" Mr. Carter came towards where they were sitting, looking annoyed.

A few of the other kids giggled. Jack glared at them, while Rose shook her head.

"No. We're fine. We were just discussing the project."

Mr. Carter looked like he didn't believe her, but finally nodded. "Okay. But you'd better watch your language…both of you." He walked away, going to check on another pair of students.

Rose sighed. "Don't worry about it, Jack. I think I've done enough that we'll at least get a C. I'll even put your name on the papers, too, if you want."

Jack shook his head. "No…it's okay. I should have done my homework."

"Yes, but…are you sure you're feeling okay? I heard you got knocked out at basketball practice yesterday."

"I didn't get knocked out. I just got hit in the face with the ball. Rumors make things out to be worse than they are."

"Is that how you got that bruise on your face?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Jack, come on. You helped with this part…let me put your name on it."

"Rose…"

"You can't stop me." Rose looked at him stubbornly.

Jack sighed, too tired to argue with her. "Okay. Go ahead. Do whatever you want. I don't care."

"You could at least be nice about my saving your grade for you."

"Fine. Thanks. Are we done?"

"It sure seems that way," Rose mumbled, scribbling Jack's name on the papers.

Jack put his head down. He didn't want to argue with her. Rose would do as she pleased, and he was too exhausted to try to stop her.

He didn't notice that Rose was looking at him with concern. His eyes drooped shut, and he was just dozing off when the bell rang.

Rose shook him. "Jack, come on. You need to get to class."

Slowly, Jack pulled himself to his feet. His next class was on the other side of campus, and he had no desire to wind up in OCD again. Once was bad enough, but twice in one day would get him into trouble. He already knew he'd get a lecture from his parents winding up there once today—twice would get him grounded…not that he really had any desire to go anywhere or do anything at the moment.

Jack followed Rose out of the classroom, lugging his heavy books with him. It seemed like an insurmountable task to get to the other side of campus, but he had to do it. Gritting his teeth, he walked in the direction of his next class, surprised when Rose fell into step beside him.

"Need help?" she asked, watching him struggle with the heavy books. He looked even paler than before now that he was out in the bright sunlight.

He was tempted to let her help him, but knew that she needed to get to her own class. He didn't want her to be late because of him.

"It's okay. I've got it."

Rose gave him an annoyed look. He was struggling, and she knew it. Before she could yell at him for rejecting her offer of help, though, he clutched the books tighter, then looked at her.

"Rose…I'm sorry I've been so short with you lately. I really am tired, and…you're right. I'm not really feeling well."

Rose looked at him, concern in her eyes. "Jack…let's talk about this later. I have to work this afternoon, but…maybe we can talk about things this evening? I can come over and we can talk…"

"Sure. We can do that."

"I think I was a little hard on you…I've been thinking about what you said…"

She trailed off as Jack stumbled away from her, heading for the drinking fountain outside the new building. Ordinarily, he would have avoided it like the plague—it was filthy, and rarely got cleaned—but now he was too thirsty to care.

Rose stared at him as he gulped down the water, hardly stopping to breathe. Finally, he straightened, staggering dizzily, and leaned against the wall, breathing hard.

"Jack?" Rose hurried up to him. "Are you okay?"

Jack took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing pulse. "Yeah…I was just thirsty for a minute there."

"Maybe you should go to the nurse's office…you look like you're going to collapse."

Jack pushed himself away from the wall, stepping carefully. When he was sure he wasn't going to fall, he looked at her.

"No…it's okay. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He winced as the warning bell rang. "I'd better hurry to class. You, too."

Rose gave him a worried look, but nodded. "Okay. I'll see you at lunch."

Jack nodded, then hurried away as fast as he could, glad that his class was just around the corner. Rose, knowing that she couldn't wait any longer, dashed up the stairs to her own class.

* * *

Rose sat with Meg and Joanna in the senior quad, waiting for Jack. He hadn't been sitting with them during the past week, something that Joanna had been plotting to remedy. No matter how angry Rose was with Jack, Joanna was sure they belonged together and had been trying to convince Rose to make up with him.

Rose hadn't told them what Jack had told her. She knew that he didn't want people to know about his past bouts with cancer, and Rose was beginning to understand why. People did pick on those who were different—and cancer definitely set a teenager apart from everyone else. She'd just told them that she and Jack had had an argument, and that was why they weren't spending any time together. She tried not to encourage Joanna's matchmaking—or remaking, in this case—but she hoped that things weren't over between them. She was upset that he hadn't been honest with her, but she was beginning to understand better.

Jack finally walked into the senior quad, looking like every step was an effort. He walked in Rose's direction, then looked at her uncertainly, not sure if she wanted him to sit with her and her friends. He'd been spending lunch shooting hoops with some other kids from the school's basketball teams during the past few days, but he wasn't sure he had the energy for that now.

Rose smiled and scooted over, making a place for him. He sat down beside her, grateful to be off his feet. He took out his lunch and looked at it, then put it away again, not interested in anything but his soda.

"Aren't you hungry?" Rose whispered to him.

He just shook his head, opening the can and taking several gulps before looking back at her.

"I'm just not very hungry right now. I'll eat later."

Before Rose could reply, one of Jack's teammates ran up to him, bouncing a basketball on the low brick wall.

"Hey, Jack, come shoot some hoops with us."

Jack looked up at him. "Maybe later, Marv."

"Aw…c'mon. You can eat later."

Jack took another gulp of his soda. "I'm hungry now."

"You're just scared of getting your nose broke again."

"I didn't break my nose, and I'm not scared." Jack looked at him in irritation. "I just want to sit and eat lunch with my girlfriend, is all."

"Yeah, you're scared."

"I am not!"

"Yeah? Prove it!"

"Fine! I will!"

"Jack…" Rose tried to get him to sit back down, to no avail. He wasn't going to let anybody call him scared.

She watched as he headed for the basketball court, almost tripping on the steps from the quad.

Meg leaned over and whispered to her. "Is he drunk or something? He looks like he's having trouble standing up!"

Rose didn't answer her. She set her lunch aside, watching with worry as Marv tossed the ball to Jack.

He threw the ball at the hoop, but missed. Another kid grabbed the ball, dribbling it and tossing it to a tall girl, who took it and threw it through the hoop.

Rose tried to catch Jack's eye, wanting him to come back and sit down. He was wavering on his feet, stumbling as he turned to follow the other players.

Jack felt like the world was spinning around him. He felt himself starting to fall, but Marv came up behind him and shoved him upright again.

"Man, what's wrong with you?" He tossed Jack the ball again.

Jack caught it and turned, looking for the hoop. He felt his nose running and swiped at it, looking in alarm at the blood on his hand. The world was still spinning, faster now, it seemed, so he dropped the ball, trying to keep his balance.

Somebody shouted behind him, pushing at his shoulders, but he couldn't make out what they'd said. The spinning had stopped, but now the world seemed to be fading away.

The last thing he heard was Rose's voice calling his name before he slumped to the ground, unconscious, a thin trickle of blood running from his nose and dripping onto the hot pavement below.

* * *

"Jack!"

Rose jumped up, her lunch forgotten, as she saw Jack stumble dizzily, the ball falling from his hands, before falling to the ground. She rushed forward, hoping that he'd get up, but he didn't stir.

The other kids who had been playing basketball were milling around uneasily, not sure what to do. A few other kids, attracted by the commotion, crowded around, all wanting to know what had happened.

Rose crouched down beside him, scarcely aware that Meg and Joanna were at her side. She shook Jack, trying to awaken him.

"Jack! Jack, come on. Wake up!"

More kids were crowding around, rumors of what had happened already flying. There'd been a fight. There'd been a shooting—never mind that no one had heard any gunshots. Someone had died. Someone was drunk. Someone was sick…

Rose ignored the kids crowding around them. She lifted Jack's head, gasping when she saw the blood trickling from his nose, and dug a tissue out of her purse, trying without success to wipe it away.

Marv was staring at Jack, looking shocked. He'd never imagined that his taunts would lead to Jack lying unconscious on the pavement. He'd just wanted him to join in the game.

After a moment, he looked up, seeing Joanna and Meg staring at him accusingly. Shaking his head, he quickly moved around them.

"I'll go get somebody," he promised, running off in the direction of the lunch area.

Rose gently lowered Jack's head back to the pavement, then grasped his hands in hers. He looked paler than ever, the blood running from his nose bright red against his paper-white face. He was breathing shallowly through his mouth, and his heart was beating so fast she couldn't count it.

"Jack, please, wake up. It'll be okay. Just wake up. Please."

Rose didn't realize she was crying until Joanna handed her another tissue. Meg had gone back to the quad and was gathering up all their belongings so they wouldn't disappear.

Rose ducked her head, stifling a sob as she sat down beside Jack, not caring about the hot, dirty pavement under her short skirt.

"Jack…come on. Wake up."

"Okay, everybody…get back…there's nothing to see here." A security guard arrived, the principal, Mr. Bennett, following quickly.

"Rose, c'mon. They want us to back off." Joanna tugged at Rose's arm, but her friend refused to move.

"I can't leave him, Joanna."

"Young lady, please get up."

Rose looked up at the security guard. "I don't know what happened…he was playing basketball and then he passed out. He's looked sick all day, or at least since third period…"

Mr. Bennett nodded. "We've already called for an ambulance." He looked Rose in the eye. "I know you want to stay with him, but it's better if you get back. We'll take care of him."

"Where's the nurse?" Rose looked at Jack again. He showed no sign of waking up.

"She's at Pinacate today. There's just one nurse for the whole district."

Meg and Joanna helped Rose up. "Come on, Rose. Maybe they can help him."

Rose wiped her eyes with the tissue Joanna had given her. "Oh, my God…"

"He'll be okay, Rose."

Rose sat down heavily on the low wall, watching as Mr. Bennett and the security guard leaned over Jack, taking his pulse and checking his breathing. What if there was something seriously wrong with him? What if the leukemia was back? He'd said he was in remission, but she'd checked out a book about leukemia after he'd told her he'd had it, and the symptoms it described sounded just like what had been happening to him lately…all the bruises, the lack of appetite, the constant tiredness…she knew that he'd had it twice already. If he had it again, would he even be able to get better?

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. Rose, Joanna, and Meg watched as the paramedics placed Jack on a gurney and put an oxygen mask on his face. Rose started crying again when they wheeled him into the ambulance and left, sirens blaring.

As soon as the ambulance was gone, she rushed up to Mr. Bennett. "Is he going to be okay?"

"They'll do everything they can for him," he assured her, but he looked worried, too.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Joanna and Meg accompanied Rose to the girls' bathroom once the ambulance took Jack away. Rose was sobbing now, unable to stop shaking. She leaned against the wall, burying her face in her arms.

Meg stroked her hair, ordering Joanna to get a few paper towels and wet them down.

"You can skip the rest of the day," Meg soothed. "It's not like you have a test or anything."

Rose gratefully accepted a damp paper towel to wipe her face and used a dry one to blow her nose. No doubt she looked terrible; she stumbled to the mirror, peering wearily at her reflection. Sure enough, her eyes were puffy and streaks of mascara were apparent on her pale cheeks. She turned on the faucet, splashing more water onto her face.

"Thanks," she squeaked, accepting another paper towel. She knew she wouldn't survive the rest of the afternoon, and as a senior, she had an easier chance of escaping school grounds. Unfortunately, school wasn't the only thing she had to ditch that day. She was scheduled to work, and no doubt Marietta would throw a fit if she called out.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Joanna asked once Rose calmed down.

"I just…I can't believe this is happening," she whispered, massaging her forehead. "It's like a nightmare."

Meg hugged her. "If it makes you feel any better, Jo and I will come with you."

Joanna looked excited-she'd never been given the opportunity to skip class before.

"Yeah," she agreed. "But if we're gonna do it, we'd better leave now, before the bell rings."

The girls snatched their things and dashed out into the hall. They narrowly escaped a security guard and sneaked outside. Once inside Rose's Saturn, they took off, her wheels screeching on the asphalt.

Rose took her cell phone out of her purse, and, keeping her eyes as best as she could on the road, dialed the number for Sam's Club. She bit her lip as she listened to the ring, and glanced at Meg and Jo through her rearview mirror. Her friends were chatting quietly between themselves, so Rose could hear.

When someone finally picked up, Rose took a deep breath. "Yeah, hi…can I speak to Marietta, please?" she asked. There was a pause, and Rose felt her heart racing.

"Yeah, hey!" she added, once she recognized her boss's voice.

"Who is this?" Marietta's brash, Puerto-Rican accent asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"It's Rose. Listen, I'm not going to be able to make it into work tonight. Something personal came up."

Marietta stood at the COS podium, watching as the lines began growing, despite the four cashiers she had on duty already. "Are you kiddin' me?" she asked, exasperated.

"I'm sorry, Mar, but I can't make…" Before Rose could continue, Marietta began shouting at her in Spanish. Rose rolled her eyes—it was ridiculous how retail managers treated their employees. They acted as though work should be the most important thing in life, while family and school only came second and third.

"Marietta, you know I only speak about ten phrases in Spanish," she said as calmly as she could. "I can't understand a word you're saying."

Joanna suddenly sprung her arm over the back of the seat, snatching the cell phone out of Rose's hand. Meg cried out in alarm, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Listen up, you insensitive bitch!" Joanna yelled once she put the phone against her ear. "For your information, Rose's boyfriend had to be rushed to the hospital. That's what's so important, thank you!"

Rose felt sick, grateful that they weren't on a major road. She was sure her boss would fire her for this. "It's for you," Joanna suddenly said quietly, and handed the phone back to her friend. Rose snatched it out of Joanna's hand, and Meg punched Jo on the shoulder.

"Nice friend, eh? Don't you think you should be in charge of your own dirty work? I know you have a stronger will than that."

Rose sighed. "I'm really sorry," she apologized. "We're all really upset right now, so we're not thinking clearly."

Marietta was quiet, and Rose could hear the sound of registers bleeping as her co-workers hastily scanned items, tossing them into the customers' carts.

"Listen," Marietta began slowly. "I guess I was a little harsh with you before. You know how it gets around here. Hang on…" Rose cringed when she heard her voice shout, "In a minute! Hold your horses, will ya?" and then her voice was normal again. "So, this boyfriend…is it the blond one?"

Rose had to chuckle. "Do you think I'd be this upset if it was Cal who was in the hospital?"

Joanna snorted from her seat, and Meg whacked her on the arm again.

"I guess not." Marietta laughed. "Okay, honey. Since you do have a good record, I'll let you go tonight on this one. Give him my best, eh? I like him. Make sure they take good care of him at that hospital."

Rose sighed with relief. "All right, Marietta. I'll tell him you were thinking of him. I'm really sorry again. And good night." She hung up and flipped the cell phone closed before stuffing it back into her purse.

"I can't believe you called Rose's boss an insensitive bitch, Joanna!" Meg cried, once they were able to talk in regular voices again. "Are you crazy? You almost got her fired!"

Joanna shrugged. "The bitch deserved to be put in her place! And it worked, didn't it, Rose?" she asked, and Rose nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. She was afraid that if she spoke, she'd burst into tears, and losing her cool in the car wasn't a safe thing.

"Shh," Meg hissed, nodding towards Rose, and Joanna folded her arms, wet her lips, and stared out the window.

* * *

When they reached the ER doors, Rose led the way to the receptionist's desk.

"May I help you?" A short woman with a head of curly gray hair peered at Rose through a pair of ridiculously large glasses.

"My-" Rose gulped, out of breath. "My boyfriend, Jack Dawson, was just brought here. I wanted to know what room he's staying in."

The secretary gave a bored sigh and flipped through her charts. Joanna nudged Meg's arm, nodding towards them with a smirk.

"Daryl...Datton...Dawson. Mmm-hmm. He's still in a cubicle in the ER. We haven't found a free room for him yet."

Rose cursed under her breath. "Is there any way I can see him?" she asked, and the woman raised an eyebrow.

"You his sister?"

Rose shook her head, surprised that the woman hadn't heard her call Jack her boyfriend.

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to wait. No one but family members are allowed in the cubicles. But if you'll have a seat, I'll contact the doctor to let you know the details. Fair enough?"

Rose wanted to shout, "No! That's not good enough!" But she was too drained to argue with her. So she gave a weak nod, and let Joanna led her into the waiting room.

"His mom's probably on her way," Meg said, once they were sitting. "And I'm pretty sure you can convince her to let you in and see him."

Rose crossed her legs, too anxious to pick up a magazine. Joanna and Meg tried their best to keep up a casual conversation, but Rose was clearly in another world.

When Lorraine Dawson burst through the door at last, Rose leapt off of the couch.

"Rose!" Lorraine gasped. "What happened to Jack?"

Rose felt her throat choking up with tears. "He passed out at school," she said. "I just got here, and they wouldn't let me see him."

Lorraine rushed to the desk, demanding to see her son. Rose, upon Mrs. Dawson's approval, was allowed to come with her, but Joanna and Meg were forced to remain in the waiting room. Rose gave them both apologetic smiles, and they waved their hands to show her it was no problem.

Lorraine and Rose finally found the doctor on duty, who brought them to Jack's cubicle.

"Your son is still unconscious," Dr. Stellar told Lorraine. "We are in the midst of giving him a blood transfusion...he suffered a nasty nosebleed."

Lorraine squeaked in fear, covering her mouth with one hand.

"Is he going to be all right?" she asked, and Rose kept trying to peek through the curtains.

"We believe so," Dr. Stellar said. "But right now, it's hard to tell. He hasn't woken up at all since the ambulance picked him up. I wouldn't recommend going in right now if blood makes you queasy, Miss," he added, and Rose blinked, realizing he was talking to her.

"What?"

"Sweetie," Lorraine began, "I'm not sure that this is a good thing, for you to go in and see Jack. Maybe once he's been cleaned up and is in an actual room…"

Rose felt her cheeks grow hot. "I'm not a wuss," she seethed. "I can take a little blood."

Dr. Stellar laughed softly. "Don't take offense," he said. "I'm only saying that he looks a bit...gruesome at the moment, and we're using a substance called cocaine hydrochloride, which will help shrink the blood vessels in his nose. That, hopefully, will stop the bleeding fairly quickly. But, I will warn you...the stuff tends to make patients a little loopy afterwards."

"Are you sure you want to go in now?" Lorraine asked, and Rose nodded.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Dr. Stellar nodded. "Very well."

Rose took a deep breath and followed them both into the cubicle. Jack lay very still on the bed, covered with a thin blanket. His face was bloodless, so the stains of red were more vivid. He was hooked to an IV that pumped blood into his body, and Rose found that she wanted to burst into tears more than vomit.

"Oh, Jack," she breathed, taking his hand gently. Lorraine smoothed her son's sweat-soaked forehead and planted a kiss there. Dr. Stellar checked Jack's vital signs, which appeared to be good, and told the two women that he would return shortly.

"Rose...did you know how he was feeling before he fainted?"

Rose smoothed her boyfriend's cheek, wishing she could see those crystal blue eyes open up.

"We kind of had a falling out, so we were kind of avoiding each other for a few days." She blew a loose curl out of her eyes. "But he just seemed really run down, and hasn't been eating much, either. But I noticed that he wanted to drink a lot instead." She ticked off the symptoms she'd noticed throughout the past week.

Lorraine gave a tiny nod. "Mrs. Dawson..." Rose added. "Jack...I'm sorry if this is inappropriate, but he told me he had leukemia twice when he was younger. Is that true?"

Lorraine frowned deeply. "Unfortunately, yes. He was very sick for a long time. He was first diagnosed when he was eleven, and he was on chemo for about a year. Then he went into remission, and was doing fairly well until he got sick again at fifteen."

Rose closed her eyes; no wonder Jack had been keeping his illness a secret. He was afraid that if he said the word cancer out loud, it could bring out the possibility that it might return for a third round. She still couldn't help thinking about the dreaded disease in the back of her mind, though, and prayed that he would come out of this without a problem. _I'm sure it's just some stupid flu bug that got out of control, _she thought to herself.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, and Lorraine nodded.

"Thank you. I'm assuming he told you?" she asked quietly, and Rose wet her lips.

"Yes, he did. But I kind of reacted a bit more harshly than I should have when he told me, but I think I was more upset about the fact that he was not honest with me than about the cancer." She remembered when she, as a child, thought cancer was a disease only found in old people. It had completely shocked her when she saw a kid for the first time on the oncology floor, so sick from the chemotherapy treatments when she was visiting her grandmother. She remembered how scared she'd been about it, and how she'd cried when she got home.

Now Jack-it seemed so unreal, seeing him laying so still. He looked so small beneath the sheets.

"Well, Jack has always had difficulty accepting the fact that he had cancer. It's very difficult for kids especially; they're afraid their friends will ostracize them for being different. And as always, people fear what they don't understand. Jack wanted to live his life as normal as possible, so I'm guessing that's why he didn't tell you sooner." She frowned. "So," she added, "just how serious are you two?"

Rose remembered how uncomfortable Jack's parents looked as they watched them through the living room window the one night, and she blushed furiously. "I...well, we've just started dating, so I'm...I guess pretty serious, yes," she stuttered, wanting to slap herself.

Lorraine chuckled. "No need to be nervous!" she promised. "I'm glad Jack found you, Rose. If he were to be dating anyone, I would have wanted him to be dating someone like you. I felt good about your relationship since the beginning; we were only frightened because…well…now you understand."

Rose nodded. "That was nice of you to say, Mrs. Dawson," she said, and Lorraine touched her shoulder.

"Please call me Lorraine, honey," she said, and Rose beamed.

"All right."

Jack suddenly let out a small moan and began tossing and turning a little. Rose took his hand, holding her breath as she watched his eyes flutter. Dr. Stellar came back in at that moment and smiled. "Oh, good...he should be coming to any minute."

Sure enough, Jack's eyes opened, and he gazed somewhat blankly at the ceiling.

"Honey?" Lorraine reached over to feel his forehead, which was still a little warm.

"How are you feeling, young man?" Dr. Stellar asked, and Jack suddenly gave a lopsided grin.

"Fide!" His voice was way too high-pitched, and when he caught sight of Rose, his grin grew even wider. "Rose! Ib all bedder dow!"

Rose stifled a giggle-the packing in his nose made him sound very stuffy, and his loopiness was beginning already.

"I want some of what you just took." Rose laughed, wishing she had that much energy daily. Dr. Stellar laughed himself.

"I wouldn't recommend cocaine hydrochloride to non-patients," he said, and Rose grinned, listening with amusement as Jack began rambling about the strangest things.

"Did you dow the sky was blue, Rose? I feel lig I'b flyig albost, I'b feelig so good. Am I flyig, Rose?"

Rose snorted. "No, you're right on the ground with me, as you should be." She kissed his cheek.

Lorraine brushed Jack's sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes as the doctor began talking again.

"The blood transfusion seems to be going well," he said. "A nurse will unhook the IV in about five minutes. In the meantime, Mrs. Dawson, I would like to have your permission to run some tests on your son."

"Tesds?" Jack suddenly spoke up. "I'b dot in school. Shouldn't hab to tage a test, should I, Bob?"

Rose covered her mouth to stifle more giggles that broke out, and even Lorraine had to smile.

"What sort of tests?"

"Well, Mrs. Dawson, I was reading through your son's medical history, and I saw that he had leukemia twice within the past five or six years. I did not like what I was seeing when I tested his blood cell count, and he has some very nasty bruises forming on his skin. I would like to run a CAT scan, as well as do a biopsy on him."

Rose felt suddenly sick; did that mean there was a possibility Jack was truly sick with leukemia again? If he was, she wasn't sure she could bear it.

"Of-" Lorraine cleared her throat. "Of course, doctor. I suppose you'll be keeping him overnight, then?"

Dr. Stellar nodded. "I'm afraid so," he said. "We would have done that anyway, just as a precautionary measure for observation. But yes, I would like to keep him one night, possibly two, until the tests are complete."

Lorraine's eyes were wide and tear-filled, and if Rose wasn't determined to stay strong in front of Jack's mother, she would have broken down on the spot.

"Yes, that will be fine. I am sure my son will be just fine in your care."

Dr. Stellar nodded. "Well, I am going to see if we have any rooms open for him, and we'll get him settled. You're free to stay if you wish, though it will not be very exciting."

"I'm staying," Lorraine said. "I am staying with my son."

"I'm staying, too," Rose added, and Lorraine looked at her.

"Rose, please, honey. I refuse to let you spend the night at the hospital. You need to go home and get some rest, and you can come back tomorrow morning when everything's been said and done, all right?"

Rose stared at her, unsure of whether or not to argue. But seeing Jack's worried face, she kissed him. "Jack...I...I love you," she said, and he managed another smile.

"I lob you, too," he whispered. "I dod wad you to stay here oberdight, Rose. I'll be fide. Bob'll be here wib be."

Rose nodded. "Then I'll be here first thing in the morning. All right, baby?"

Jack nodded weakly, and, after another kiss, and after giving Mrs. Dawson a hug, she dashed out of the cubicle. She caught up with Joanna and Meg, who both stood up as soon as they saw their friend approach.

"How is he?" Meg asked, her voice filled with anxiety.

"He has to stay overnight," Rose choked. "They want to run some tests."

"Oh, wow," Joanna breathed. "Rose, I'm so sorry."

Rose nodded. "Thanks," she choked. "Well, we'd better get out of here. I'll drop you two off, and then..." She took a deep breath.

"We're here for you," Meg insisted, hugging her friend tightly. "We're here for you."

"Absolutely," Joanna added, grinning.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The rest of that evening was a blur for Jack. When he finally recovered from the cocaine hydrochloride, he was purely exhausted, and slept as much as he could. His father came around four o'clock, and though he tried to stay strong in front of his son, Jack could see right through him.

James Dawson had taken his son's illness as an enormous blow, and Lorraine had often heard him sobbing softly late at night when Jack was sick. Jack was their only child, and he couldn't bear the possibility of losing him, especially not to such a horrible, painful disease.

"Are you sure you want to spend the night?" he asked his wife as they stood holding each other in the hallway.

"Yes, I'm positive. I don't want Jack having to spend the night in here alone. God knows he's probably terrified."

"He's eighteen," James replied. "He's been in the hospital before. He's mature enough to handle himself."

"I'm staying, James," Lorraine repeated firmly, and her husband finally had to give in. When he left, Lorraine went back into her son's room, sitting down by the bed. Jack made a small noise, as though he could sense her presence.

"Mom?" he croaked, and she ran the tips of her fingers across his forehead.

"How are you feeling, honey?" Jack's skin was still much too pale for her liking. He wasn't as feverish as he had been, but he was still a tad clammy.

"Okay, I guess," he muttered. "Just really tired. And a little dizzy," he added, noticing his mother's look of disbelief.

"Jack," she began sternly, "when was the last time you went for a check-up?"

He gulped, not wanting to get into a discussion about that at the moment. He was too drained.

"Um…" He cleared his throat, and Lorraine's eyes narrowed.

"Jack, answer me, please."

"Mom, I…I haven't been to a doctor since I turned eighteen," he began quietly, and she gasped.

"You told us you had an appointment!" she cried.

"I—I don't have a doctor," Jack admitted. "They never referred me to another one, another oncologist. I was too old to stay with the pediatrician we had originally."

Lorraine felt the blood drain from her face. "You don't have a doctor?"

He shrugged. "I figured I was fine, so I didn't make a big deal about it."

"It is a big deal, Jack. Remission doesn't necessarily mean you're completely cured!"

Jack closed his eyes. Unfortunately, he knew that to be true, but he didn't want to think about the other possibilities. A tense silence passed between them, and Lorraine eventually took his hand.

"I didn't mean to scare you, sweetie, but…"

"Mom, I don't need another doctor," Jack told her.

"Oh, clearly not," Lorraine retorted, eyeing him up and down. "Jack, I can't believe you didn't tell us that they didn't refer you to a doctor! You know your father and I would have found another one for you quicker than you could blink! Don't you think we care enough?" she added, her voice trembling, and Jack could tell she was trying hard not to break down in front of him. "Now, it may not be that you're relapsing, but…" She fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist.

"I—I'm sorry, Mom," he whispered, and she pulled him into a tight hug. She said nothing, and eventually, Jack could feel her trembling against him. He buried his face in her shoulder, holding on as tightly as he could.

Eventually, there was a knock on the door, and Lorraine quickly parted from her son. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her sleeve and quickly went to answer it. "I am here with the dinner cart, ma'am."

Lorraine glanced over her shoulder, where Jack had lain back down against the pillows. "Jack, would you like something to eat? Dinner's arrived."

The thought of food made Jack's stomach churn; he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that morning, and even that hadn't been much at all. "Not really hungry," he whispered, and Lorraine turned back to the nurse.

"The doctor insists that any patients who are not on feeding tubes should at least take something light down," the nurse insisted. "Just a little of this chicken soup should be all right." She handed the tray to Lorraine, who gave her a small nod of thanks. When she shut the door after the nurse, Jack groaned at the sight of the meager meal.

"I can't," he choked when his mother sat back down on the chair beside the bed.

"Honey, you just have to try a little bit of soup. You don't have to eat the…" She peeked under the lid of the main dish and cringed. "I'm not quite sure…" She laughed. "Reminds me of the food my high school cafeteria used to…never mind." She quickly shut it. "I'm sure the soup is perfectly edible. And a little juice. You haven't been eating much, and you can't afford to lose anymore weight than you have." She pinched Jack's skin gently. "You're already skin and bones!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll have a little bit, I guess."

"Good. Do you need help?" she asked, taking the soup bowl into her hands and setting the tray aside.

"Mom…" Jack whined, and Lorraine smirked.

"All right. All right. Here you are." She carefully gave the bowl to Jack, who slowly began to sip the lukewarm liquid. "I hope you know that I will have to tell your father about this," she added, once he grew comfortable with his meal. "I am still very disappointed in you, Jack. If you weren't feeling well, you should have told us. You could have avoided all of this." She motioned with her arms around the room.

Jack sighed. "I know," he croaked. "I was stupid. I was just—I was so happy when I went into remission again, that I guess I got caught up in being able to live my life normally again. I was tired of being on chemo and radiation." He sighed.

"And Rose." Lorraine winked at her son. "You've found quite a girl, Jack."

He blushed. "Mom," he groaned, and she stroked his hair.

"No, I'm serious. I really like her. I wish you had told her about your leukemia sooner, but she understands why you didn't."

Jack nodded. "She was pretty mad when I told her about it," he said. "I was being pretty stupid, thinking she'd get all weirded out when I said something."

"It's horrible to have a disease like that when you're so young," Lorraine admitted, "but you've got to understand that things happen in life that are beyond our control."

"I just didn't want to be singled out," Jack told his mother. "Everyone already thinks I'm weird anyway, because I like to be by myself a lot and I like art so much."

Lorraine kissed his forehead. "You're wonderful in your own way, Jack. Don't care about what other people think. Just know that you have parents who will love you no matter what you do."

Jack managed a small smile, and then frowned. "Ugh," he grumbled, handing the bowl to her. "I can't eat anymore."

She glanced at the progress he made, and nodded. "Well, at least you drank half of this." She set it on the tray. "Would you like to maybe try taking some juice down?"

Jack shook his head. "Not now," he whispered, and she eased him back down on the mattress, pulling the blankets up to his neck. "Mom, you don't have to stay with me tonight," he added. "I'll be okay in here by myself."

Lorraine cocked her head to one side. "Jack…"

"Mom, you need to go home and be with Dad. He'll need you. And I don't think it'll be very comfortable sleeping in a chair."

Lorraine sighed, squeezing both of her son's hands. "Are you sure?" she asked, and Jack gave a small nod.

"I'm a big boy," he teased, and she swatted his arm playfully.

"You jerk," she laughed, and then kissed him. "I love you," she whispered. "Please, don't hesitate to call me if you need me."

Jack nodded. "I promise," he replied, saluting her as she got up and left the room. Lorraine shut the door behind her, leaning against the wall. She closed her eyes, massaging her throbbing forehead, and then gathered up the strength to make her way to the receptionist's desk in the lobby of the hospital.

* * *

Rose couldn't sleep that night. She tossed and turned, imagining Jack lying on some metal table in an operating room. He was surrounded by a group of surgeons, who were holding saws and enormous needles. "Cut him open," the head surgeon said, and Rose woke up just as a fountain of blood spurted from Jack's limp body.

She sat, panting, clutching a handful of quilt and sheets to her chest. It was still dark, and it took a couple of moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She eventually turned to stare at her alarm clock, which read 3:30 AM. She still had a good three hours before she had to get up, but every time she would attempt to sleep, some nightmare or other involving Jack would wake her.

Rose eventually calmed down enough to slide out of bed and flipped on the light. The house was silent except for the occasional creak from the old plumbing. She went to her bedroom window and raised the blinds, peering across the street at Meg's house. She needed someone to talk to, and wished she and her friend had invited some kind of flashlight signal to get each other's attention at odd hours of the night.

Blowing out her breath, Rose sat down on the edge of the bed, peering down at her pink and flower print pajama pants, and then looked at the picture of her father on the nightstand. She had had the same types of nightmares after his death; she kept replaying the accident that the paper described over and over again in her head until she went to a therapist to work things out.

"Oh, God, Jack," she breathed. "Why did this have to happen to you? Just when we're getting to know each other?" She took her stuffed cat from the floor and squeezed it to her chest. What she wouldn't give to be with Jack now; she had absolutely no idea what the doctor was going to find when he did the tests.

_Sitting up and stressing about it won't help you, _a voice inside of her head spoke, and Rose bit her lip. She lay back down again, keeping the light on this time, and attempted to drift back to sleep again.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Dawson."

Jack's eyes fluttered open wearily the next day, and he found someone standing beside him. A rather large African-American nurse stood beside the bed, adjusting the IV needle in his arm. "Dr. Stellar will be in to see you shortly."

Jack raised his eyes, cringing as she replaced the old fluid bag with a fresh one. "Does he have any idea what's wrong with me?" he whispered, and the nurse shrugged.

"I wish I could tell you, honey. I don't know."

Jack closed his eyes, wishing desperately that he would be allowed to go home that afternoon. Unfortunately, the prospect of facing his most likely furious father and disappointed mother made the hospital room suddenly very comfortable. "Your fever has definitely broken, though," the nurse spoke again after feeling his forehead. "We were getting a little worried about you last night. It spiked twice."

Jack blew out his breath just as there was a knock on the door. "That must be Dr. Stellar."

Jack watched as she bustled towards the door and opened it.

"Well, how is my young patient this morning?" Dr. Stellar asked, carrying a clipboard under one arm. Jack blinked, amazed that anyone could be so cheerful at this hour.

"Okay, I guess," he muttered, and Dr. Stellar checked his charts, clucking his tongue. He peered closely at the heart monitor and nodded. "Your vital signs look good, though we did have a bit of trouble with your temperature last night."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, that's what the nurse said."

Dr. Stellar squeezed his arm. "I know you're anxious about the blood work, but we unfortunately won't have the results for about two to three days. I've just sent the tubes to the lab."

Jack groaned. "Two to three days? That long?" he asked, and Dr. Stellar chuckled.

"Technology isn't quite that advanced, kiddo."

Kiddo. Jack had to fight not to laugh—who used the term kiddo anymore?

"Will I be able to go home today?" Jack asked curiously, definitely feeling considerably better than the day before.

Dr. Stellar nodded. "You should be able to, Jack. But what I want to do before we can allow you to go home is take some X-rays and run you through a CAT scan. We've contacted your parents, and your father said he would be here to pick you up around 3:30. We should have all of your tests completed by then."

Jack nodded. "Okay."

"Since it's still pretty early, and the breakfast cart hasn't come by yet, why don't we start the X-ray exams around ten? That way you can get a chance to eat and relax. You might be able to catch a few minutes of the Lakers game from yesterday. I heard you're a fan of basketball."

Jack nodded softly and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It read 8:30. Right now, he would normally be eating breakfast on a Saturday morning. He wondered how Rose was doing; he missed her terribly.

Dr. Stellar turned on the TV with the miniature remote, and then handed it to his patient. "I'll be back for you around ten." He gave Jack a small smile and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Jack watched as the doctor disappeared before turning his attention to the TV. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand waiting so long for the test results. His conversation with his mother scared him—what if she was right? What if the leukemia had decided to come back?

Jack closed his eyes, balling clumps of his blankets into his fists. No—he wouldn't think about that now. He would think about Rose instead—everything about her from her flaming red hair to her radiant smile.

"I miss you, Rose," he said quietly. "I miss you. And God, I'm so sorry."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Rose groaned inwardly as she slapped the off button on her alarm. She blinked wearily, the horrible dreams of the night before merely a fuzzy memory. She lay still in bed for a few minutes, forcing her mind into action. It was inhumane, she always thought, to have to get up at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning.

"At least I'm getting paid for it," she muttered as she finally struggled to sit up, rubbing her eyes. She could hear her mother bustling about the house, getting ready for the day. Weekday or weekend, Ruth was always up before nine, just because she was used to it.

"Rose?" There was a knock on the door, and Rose blinked stupidly.

"I'm up," she called, and slid off of her bed, walking slowly across the floor. She pulled the door open, and sure enough, found herself face-to-face with her mother.

"Oh, good. You can't afford to miss work again after yesterday."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Mom, I missed one day, and I had a perfectly valid reason."

"Oh?" Ruth put her hands on her hips. "I don't remember hearing any valid reasons, Rose. You didn't say one word to me when you got home from school."

Rose sighed. "I really don't feel like talking about this right now, Mom. I really don't."

Ruth held up her hand. "I'm just telling you, Rose, that you don't want to start making a habit of this. You've been so responsible with school and your job. I don't want it to go down the drain because of some…" Ruth shook her head, silencing her thoughts, and Rose raised an eyebrow.

"Some what? Some trashy boy?" Rose spat, knowing very well that Ruth was referring to Jack. "You know what, Mother? That trashy boy is in the hospital right now. He passed out at school yesterday, and was running a fever of one hundred and four. That's why I didn't go to work, Mom, because unlike some, I actually care about people other than myself!" Rose stormed past her mother and into the bathroom. Before Ruth could respond, the bathroom door slammed shut, and the sound of the shower running thundered in her ears barely a moment later.

Ruth stood very still in the dimly lit hallway, resting the palm of her hand against the wall.

Rose, meanwhile, stripped out of her pajamas and stepped into the shower. She was still fuming over her outburst with her mother, but sometimes, the woman could be purely impossible. She allowed the warm water to wash over her naked body, turning around so it could dampen her somewhat sleep-tousled hair. Honestly, sometimes it was better to be at school or at work than at home. Well, she didn't mind so much when her father was alive. He was the barrier that kept peace between Rose and her mother, but now that he was dead, the barrier was broken.

Rose scrubbed rather hard at her skin with her shower puff, gritting her teeth as she did so. She needed Jack; she missed him so badly, and was scared to death for him. How she was going to get through her eight-hour shift was beyond her imagination, but she knew Jack would not approve of her spending all afternoon in some stuffy hospital. "But I want to," she said to no one in particular. "I want to be with you, Jack, and I don't care where we are."

About twenty minutes later, Rose hopped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her head and one around her body, and made her way back to her bedroom. Her mother's bedroom door was closed, and Rose sighed wearily as she looked at it. "Dammit," she growled, walking into her own room and shutting her door behind her.

By 9:30, Rose grabbed her purse and rushed down the steps. She caught sight of her mother in the kitchen, and Ruth peered at her daughter over a mug of coffee. "Aren't you eating anything for breakfast, Rose?" Ruth's voice was very quiet.

"I'll just get something from the vending machine at work," Rose insisted. "If…anyone calls, let me know, okay?"

Ruth nodded, tapping her index finger against the coffee mug.

"I will. Have a good day," she added, and with a polite nod, Rose headed outside and to her car.

* * *

At the hospital, Jack sat on top of his blankets, having dressed in the fresh change of clothes his mother had brought him the day before. He still felt drained, and hadn't been able to eat much for breakfast. Nothing good was on television, either, so Jack used the time between the meal and ten o'clock to doze off.

Dr. Stellar came at ten as promised, and smiled when he saw Jack looking awake and more alert than he had since he was brought in. "Good, good. I was hoping to see you dressed and ready to go. How are you feeling?"

Jack shrugged. "Just really tired and dizzy still," he admitted, and the doctor pointed to the wheelchair.

"I'm going to bring you down to the CAT scan lab in this. You're not in any condition to walk just yet."

Jack nodded in understanding; the thought alone of moving from his bed to the wheelchair was enough to exhaust him. "So, I take it you're familiar with these procedures, Jack?" Dr. Stellar asked once he was sitting in the wheelchair and entering the hallway.

_Unfortunately, more familiar with them than I like to admit,_ Jack thought to himself, and nodded softly.

"So, you know that they'll be pretty quick and painless, then." He patted Jack's shoulder and pushed the button on the floor's elevator. Jack shivered; he felt a little chilly, even with the sweatshirt he'd put on over his t-shirt.

When they entered the lab, he recognized the young tech, who was maybe a year or so older than he was. "Just finishing up," he announced, and Dr. Stellar saluted him.

"Great, Dan. All the coordinates are set?"

Dan nodded, and Dr. Stellar peered closely at them. "Good, good. So, we'll start getting this show on the road. All right, Jack, I'm going to need for you to take off your shirt so we can mark you up on the spaces that we want to check."

Jack felt his teeth chattering as he removed his sweatshirt, and Dr. Stellar frowned. "Looks like you're running a bit of a fever again," he said, and quickly felt Jack's forehead. "A little warm."

"Weren't you in to check on me around three or something this morning?" Jack asked, and Dan shrugged.

"Probably. Sorry, routine." He helped Dr. Stellar ease Jack onto the conveyer belt that went through the enormous tube-like structure. Jack felt his heart hammering and immediately closed his eyes.

"Just take a deep breath and relax as much as you can, Jack," Dr. Stellar said, and Jack rolled his eyes.

_Easy for you to say, _he thought, and swallowed hard. He could feel the belt start to move, and every now and again, he heard a soft beep. The first time he'd gone through one of these at age eleven, he'd experienced a little panic attack from the tight space. Now he just let his mind focus on anything but the situation, and it immediately focused on Rose. She was smiling at him and waving, her long red hair blowing in the breeze. He smiled back, wanting more than anything to hold her in his arms.

_Not too much longer, _he promised her.

* * *

Sam's Club was a madhouse, as usual, when Rose arrived. She could tell they were short-staffed already, given the fact that there were fourteen cash registers and only four were operating. Groaning inwardly, Rose dashed towards the employees' only door and popped it open. She could hear the voices of her co-workers who were either coming in or on their lunches if they were working a seven to three shift.

"Hey," Rose told them breathlessly as she went over to her locker. They waved, and as soon as she got on her red vest, Rose hurried back downstairs. Marietta spotted her first and immediately pointed to an available register while chatting in Spanish on the phone at the same time.

Rose waved to the COS's on duty and took her place behind the counter. She wasn't sure how she would be able to survive an eight-hour day, not with the immense worry about Jack burning in the pit of her stomach. Still, she tried her best to put on a pleasant face as customers began coming to her line.

The bleep of the sliding scanner reminded Rose all too much of the heart monitor hooked to Jack in the emergency room cubicle. She closed her eyes, blowing out her breath as she finished with her first customers.

She barely noticed when her co-workers shouted cheerful hellos as they caught sight of her, and COS Lana had to shout twice that it was time to take a break once two hours had gone by.

"Are you okay?" Lana asked when Rose passed her.

"Yeah," Rose promised. "Just a lot on my mind. That's all."

She met up with her manager about halfway to the break room door, and Marietta pulled her aside. "Any news about the boyfriend?" she asked, and Rose shook her head miserably. "Honey, I'm sure he's gonna be fine, okay?"

Rose smiled back, wishing she could feel as confident as Marietta sounded.

"Thanks," she replied softly, and Marietta nodded.

"Go and relax for a bit. You're really working your tail off out there."

Rose chuckled. "And you wouldn't expect less of me, would you?" she teased, and Marietta stuck out her tongue.

"See you in fifteen," she laughed, and Rose disappeared up the break room steps.

* * *

Jack, following the CAT scan and the series of endless x-rays, was looking forward to relaxing for the rest of the morning and early afternoon in his room. However, that, as he was about to discover, was not the case.

"We're going to do a bone marrow aspiration," Dr. Stellar announced when Jack had put his clothes back on.

"What?" Jack cried. "You didn't tell me that earlier!"

Dr. Stellar smacked his forehead lightly. "Must have slipped my mind, then…I apologize, Jack, but this is one of the routine tests for…well, for what we hope won't be the results."

Jack began cursing under his breath in English, Spanish, German, Italian…Dan happened to be close enough to hear, and he smirked. "Nice," he laughed, though not loud enough for Dr. Stellar to hear.

Jack glared at him. "When are we doing the bone marrow aspiration, by the way?" he asked, checking his watch. It was already 12:30; if they were to do it, it would have to be within the next two and a half hours.

"We figured we'd give you about an hour's break from these other tests, and then we'd deal with that," Dr. Stellar replied. "I'm really sorry, Jack. I should have told you about this."

Jack fought hard not to roll his eyes as he was wheeled out of the x-ray laboratory.

He hated the bone marrow aspiration. Jack hated needles to begin with, and the one they used for this procedure was abominably large. _At least they numb the spot it goes through, _Jack thought, though even that wasn't very comforting.

"I'll be back for you around 1:30. All right, Jack?" Dr. Stellar asked, and Jack nodded.

"Okay," he replied, and the doctor smiled.

"Just take it easy, all right?"

Jack sat on his hospital bed, not in the mood to watch television at the moment. He wanted desperately to be at home in his own room, and, of course, in his girlfriend's arms. He missed Rose so much that it was like a constant ache in his chest. As he surveyed the multiple bruises on his arms, he blew out his breath, shivering again. He wasn't looking forward to seeing his father's expression when James Dawson came to pick him up, but he had no choice.

So, for the next hour, Jack dozed off and on, mostly laying and staring ahead at the white walls. When Dr. Stellar came for him, he had to be shaken to get out of his little zone.

"Ready, kiddo?" Dr. Stellar asked, and Jack looked at him wearily.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Ready as anything."

* * *

Rose's work shift seemed to drag on forever. Her mouth felt extremely dry, like sandpaper, after asking people so frequently for their member cards. Thankfully, she had no nasty customers that afternoon—she was certain the slightest annoyance would make her snap. "Rose?" COS Megan came up to her around three, and Rose looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind covering Dave's break at the exit door?"

Rose shook her head. "Nope."

"Good, thanks. Only his lunch, I promise."

Rose snorted quietly; the COS's tended to bribe the cashiers into covering the entrance and exit doors, and sometimes when they said they only needed a fifteen or lunch cover, the cashier chosen would be stuck for the rest of the shift. Rose had been in that position more times than she would like to account for, but she didn't find it necessary to argue.

Therefore, at the exit door, she stood for a full half hour, marking customer's receipts as well as motioning and hollering at people who attempted to use the exit door as an entrance. Rose was more than grateful to get back to her register, and was even happier when it neared time for her to clock out.

"Goin' to the hospital after work, Rose?" Marietta asked once the COS had unlocked her register drawer at 5:45.

"Hopefully he'll be out of there by now," she replied.

"I hope so, too." Marietta patted her shoulder. "You're a good worker, Rose. I don't tell you often enough."

Rose smirked; it was extremely rare that her boss complimented anyone.

"Thanks," she replied, and Marietta smiled again.

"Welcome. Good night," she added, before disappearing amongst the crowds.

Rose sat in the cash office's common area for about five minutes, counting down her drawer. After handing her money bag over to the girl in charge, she said good-bye and stopped once more at her locker before leaving.

The ride home from work seemed to take longer than usual, and she nearly crashed the car straight into the side of the garage when she saw who was waiting for her on the lawn. She quickly turned the car's engine off and threw open the door. "Jack!" she exclaimed, hesitating. She didn't want to accidentally hurt him by leaping on him.

"Rose," he breathed, and immediately pulled her into his arms.

"When did you get back?" she asked, stroking his cheek and kissing him.

"Earlier this afternoon. I called your house to see if you were home, but your mom said you were at work. I didn't want to bother you there, so I figured I'd surprise you when you got back."

Rose couldn't stop smiling, and gave him another hug. "Oh, Jack." She gasped. "I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry."

Jack kissed her again. "Come on," he encouraged. "Let's talk at my house."

Rose squeezed his hand. "I should let my mom know first," she said.

"You can stay for dinner with us, too, if you want," Jack added, and Rose nodded.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

She watched as he waved softly and waited until he'd gone through his front door before entering her own house. "Mom?" she called, listening to the Frank Sinatra CD that was playing in the background. "Mom?"

"In the living room," Ruth called back, and Rose went to meet her mother, who was lounging on the couch and reading a book. "How was work?" she asked, and Rose shrugged.

"Same as always. Listen, I'm going to go over to Jack's for dinner tonight."

"Rose…"

"I promise, I won't be late," Rose insisted, and before her mother could protest, she dashed out again.

Jack answered the door when Rose knocked a moment later and let her into the house. She saw James sitting at the kitchen table with Lorraine, and the two of them were talking quietly.

"Hi," Rose announced, and Lorraine looked up with a smile.

"Hi, sweetie. Are you staying for dinner?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Lorraine."

Jack took Rose's arm gently. "Mom, Rose and I are gonna go down to my room and talk," he added, and Lorraine nodded in understanding.

"We'll be out here if you need us, honey."

Jack led Rose down the narrow hallway and they entered his bedroom. Rose sat down on his bed, watching as he went to stand by the window. "Are you okay, Jack?" she asked, as he turned around again.

"Rose, you were right. I was wrong for not having been completely honest with you before. But I was scared."

Rose lowered her head and sighed. "Oh, God, Jack," she breathed. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to get all snappish with you when you told me you had leukemia. I—as you said, it wasn't because the cancer itself scared me. It was because I was angry that you hadn't been completely honest."

Jack sat down next to her on the bed and pulled her to him. "Can you forgive me, Rose? For being such a selfish jerk?"

Rose kissed him. "You're not a jerk, Jack. And of course I forgive you. I've missed you so much this past week, and I was terrified when you passed out yesterday." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Did the doctor tell you what was wrong yet?"

Jack swallowed. "No," he replied. "He hasn't told me anything. They had to do a CAT Scan, a bunch of x-rays, and a bone marrow aspiration today. He said the blood work that they did overnight won't be back until at least Wednesday."

Rose groaned. "Wednesday." She took his hand and began massaging his fingers. "Seems like a lifetime." She looked into his eyes. "So, what do you think the results are going to be, Jack?" she asked, and he lowered his head again.

"I'm so scared, Rose," he whispered, and as soon as a single tear fell down his cheek, she pulled him into her arms again.

"It's okay," she promised, rubbing his back as he cried softly. "I'm here, baby. I'm here for you."

Jack remained in Rose's arms, her sweet scent calming him. "I love you," he whispered into her ear, and she felt a lump form in her own throat.

"I love you, too," she replied, and she meant it with all of her heart.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Rose spent all evening with Jack on Saturday, as well as all evening on Sunday after she got off work. He was still fairly drained from all the commotion on Sunday night, and his parents gave him permission to stay home from school Monday. "And possibly Tuesday," Lorraine added after noticing he had a low-grade fever for most of the afternoon.

"I can bring you any of the notes and assignments you missed," Rose offered as she sat on his spinning desk chair, occasionally twirling from side to side. Jack sat on his bed, his back resting against the headboard.

"Sounds good," he told her. "Hopefully, I'll have enough energy to do some of it."

Rose smiled softly. "Well, at least you can try. You were doing so well, Jack. I don't want to see you starting to fail courses. You can also have the doctor write you a note, too, for when you come back on Wednesday."

Jack groaned, closing his eyes. He had been trying not to think about Wednesday; that was when the doctor predicted the results of all of the testing would come through. Rose noticed his expression and frowned.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she apologized, and he shook his head.

"Not your fault," he insisted. "I'm just trying really hard not to panic about Wednesday. But I can't help but feel worried—Mom and Dad keep whispering to each other when they think I can't hear them, and I think they might know something I don't."

Rose wanted to add, _They think they might know something that you do know about, but you're just too scared to let yourself believe it, _but didn't. She merely got off of the desk chair and crawled up onto the bed. He smiled as she snuggled against him, resting the side of her head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with all of this, Rose," Jack apologized.

"Deal with what? Your being in the hospital and worrying about…" She stopped herself. "No, I'm not annoyed at all, Jack. I want to make sure you're okay."

"If you want to back off with the relationship until I'm sure I'm fine, we can do that," Jack suggested. "What would be the use of dating someone who might die a year or two later?"

Rose gulped. "Don't you dare say that!" she snapped, whacking him on the shoulder. "Jack, how can you even think it?"

Jack shrugged. "I was thinking about a lot of things in the hospital, Rose. You were on my mind the most. I just…I don't want you to get hurt again."

Rose groaned, flopping down on her stomach. "Jack…" She sighed. "I want to be able to love you. I'm sure you're going to be fine. And—technology has definitely advanced since you had cancer before, and if by chance…" She cleared her throat. "By chance," she added, "you have it again, I'm sure they'll be able to cure you."

Jack gulped. "Can we not talk about this?" he asked in a weak voice.

Rose looked at him. "I just want you to know that I will love you whether or not you're sick, okay? And you're not going to change my mind about it, either."

Jack nodded. "That means so much to me, Rose." He kissed her passionately on the lips. "So, what do you think of Perris High School, anyway? Since you've already been here for a few weeks."

Rose smiled. "It's a lot better than Paloma. I mean, there's really not a huge difference between the schools, except, I guess…one is a bit snottier, as it's in a richer area. But we still have book shortages there." She laughed, and Jack did as well. "I also like how much more diverse the school is." She smiled. "So, yeah." She nodded. "I like it."

Jack gently tickled her sides. "I'm glad you changed schools, Rose. Otherwise, I wouldn't have met you."

She winked. "And you would have been so deprived." She giggled.

"So, are you sleeping over again tonight?" Jack asked, glancing towards the window—it was starting to get dark.

"Well," Rose began, "I probably shouldn't. I have to get up early for school, and I still feel a bit weird showering at someone else's house."

"My mom doesn't mind," Jack told her, and Rose smirked.

"Funny, Jack." She laughed. "You just want the opportunity to catch me half-naked."

Jack stuck his tongue out at her. "Not all guys are interested in seeing girls naked," he defended himself, and Rose rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please," she scoffed, and Jack shook his head.

"Some actually care about them."

Rose let out a low whistle. "That was deep." She laughed, checking her watch. "Well, Jack, I should get back home and finish up my homework for tomorrow. Are you okay with my bringing over your stuff?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. Well, I'll stop by after work. I'm scheduled from 3:30-8:30."

"Okay. Want me to walk you down the hall?"

Rose kissed him. "No, I'll be okay. Just take it easy, all right?" She gave him another hug before fetching her purse. "See you later," she said, and made her way into the hall. She could hear quiet voices from his parent's room and was half-tempted to press her ear against the door and eavesdrop.

"I don't know what to think," she suddenly heard Lorraine say. "This isn't fair, James."

Rose swallowed, tiptoeing to the front door.

When she got home at nine o'clock, she found her mother sitting in the living room, watching a re-run of _Friends_.

"Rose?" Ruth called as Rose made her way into the kitchen, pulling a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. Rose peeked through the living room doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Joanna called earlier," she said.

"Oh…" Rose smacked herself in the forehead. She'd been spending so much time at work and with Jack over the weekend that she'd completely forgotten to contact either of her girlfriends. "Thanks, Mom," she added, and, after pouring herself a glass of iced tea, took her things to her room.

As soon as she turned on her cell phone, she saw that she had three new voice mails, and had to smirk. Joanna's name showed up under missed calls, and Rose, after sitting down on her bed, dialed her friend's number.

"Where the hell have you been?" Joanna's voice cried, once Rose finally got hold of her.

"I'm sorry," Rose apologized. "I've been…"

"Yeah, we know. With Jack." Joanna made fake kissing noises. "But don't start becoming one of those girls who dumps their friends for a guy. Meg and I won't stand for it, you know. We'll retaliate."

Rose snorted. "I believe you." She laughed.

"So, how is he?" Joanna asked as Rose pulled her calculus book and notebook from her backpack and opened the text to the assigned page.

"He's really tired," Rose replied, "and probably won't be in school for a few days."

"Wow. Do they know what's wrong with him yet?"

Rose shook her head. "No, they don't. The doctor said he should know by Wednesday at the latest."

"You sound worried," Joanna pointed out.

Rose wet her lips; she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell her friends about Jack's leukemia just yet. But she felt they needed to know that it was a possibility.

"Jo, did you know that Jack had cancer twice when he was younger?" She finally spoke again, and there was silence on the other end of the line. "He had leukemia for the first time at eleven, and again at fifteen."

"Holy shit," Joanna breathed. "So, you think he might have it again?"

Rose shook her head. "I don't know. Jack's pretty scared. He says he's been in remission for three years already, but as you know, that doesn't really mean anything."

Joanna sighed. "I'm so sorry, Rose," she replied slowly.

"Don't tell Jack I told you about this," Rose added. "I'm not sure he wants it to be made public right now. I know he had a hard time dealing with it when he was a kid; he was afraid to tell me because he thought I'd think he was a freak or something."

Joanna gulped. "I won't say anything, Rose. But shouldn't we tell Meg?"

"Let me tell her," Rose replied.

"Okay." She sighed. "Hey, do you want to go to the mall sometime this week? The homecoming dance is at the end of October, and I want to see if I can start looking for an outfit."

The homecoming dance. Rose could have kicked herself for forgetting. She remembered seeing posters all over the school for it, but she'd been too preoccupied with Jack's illness to think about it. "Oh, yeah…I forgot about that." She bit her lip. "Well, tomorrow I'm working 'til 8:30 and then I'm dropping off some of Jack's schoolwork to him. But I can probably do it on Tuesday night. I'll need distraction."

Joanna smiled. "Cool. So, are you going to go with Jack to the dance?" she asked.

"Well…" Rose shrugged. "It all depends on how he's feeling and what the results of his tests are."

Joanna nodded in understanding. "Well, I'll definitely be praying for him, then."

"Thanks, Jo." Rose sighed. "Well, I have to hang up…I have a few problems left for calculus that I have to finish. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Yup. See ya, Rose." Joanna hung up and Rose put her cell phone in its charger. She wet her lips again, her mind going to the homecoming dance. This would be the first year she would not be participating in the game as a cheerleader; it would be odd to be part of the crowd now.

Rose sighed, trying to concentrate on her homework. The homecoming dance and game were still a month away, but it seemed to be traditional to start searching for the right dress fairly early, even if you didn't have a date yet.

Rose finished the last of her homework around ten o'clock and finally decided to go to bed.

* * *

The next two days seemed to drag on forever. It was very weird not seeing Jack in the halls or on the court by the senior quad during the lunch break. His friends kept coming over to her, asking how he was feeling, and she told them as much as she could without giving the idea of his cancer away. She told Meg about Jack's having leukemia, and her other girlfriend instantly looked guilty.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked.

"I understand why he cared so much about wanting to live life to the fullest," she said softly. "I always thought he was weird when he started getting all serious about that kind of stuff. And to think—I was dating a guy who almost died twice! I feel like such an insensitive bitch!" Her eyes widened as she remembered Joanna calling Marietta that over the phone, and Joanna winked at her with amusement.

Rose gave her friend a hug. "Don't feel bad, Meg."

"So," Joanna spoke up, "now that it's Tuesday, what do you think we should plan on wearing to the dance?"

Meg snorted. "Jo, the homecoming game is a month away."

"It's never too early to start," Joanna replied. "Besides, it takes almost a month to find a date around here." She rolled her eyes, and Rose had to laugh.

"You two shouldn't have any trouble," she admitted, and Meg blushed.

"Shut up," she snipped, but good-naturedly.

"You guys can always come over and check out some of the cute stuff I have," Rose suggested. "I have some dresses that would probably fit you."

"I hardly have a cent to spare, so I may have to take you up on that offer," Meg agreed, but Joanna smiled.

"You're not getting out of going to the mall with us, Rose," she teased.

"I'm not!" Rose insisted with a laugh. "I swear on my favorite pair of black pumps that I will never abandon my girlfriends again for a man."

Joanna peered down at Rose's feet, making sure she was indeed wearing the pumps, and grinned. "Good!"

When the bell rang, signaling the start of classes again, Rose followed her friends down the hall. The days seemed longer now when she was waiting to find out whether or not Jack's life was on the line.

* * *

After spending a couple of hours at the mall after work, Rose headed home carrying a few shopping bags. She and Joanna managed to find a new dress each, and even Meg's mother was able to lend her some spending money to look for something new as well. "That was fun," Rose breathed as she dropped her friends off at their houses.

"Aren't we just?" Joanna winked, and Meg rolled her eyes.

"Someone's being just a little full of herself," she teased, and Joanna stuck out her tongue. "You'll tell us straight off when you find out what's wrong with Jack tomorrow, right?" she added, and Rose sighed.

"Rose?" Joanna held up a warning fist and Rose had to chuckle.

"I'll try my best, guys. Jack'll need me, though, I'm sure. See ya later!" she called as her friends parted ways to their separate houses and she drove the rest of the way to hers.

* * *

The next day, Wednesday, Rose felt a hollowness in her stomach. Jack returned to school as he'd told her he would, and the two of them dealt with an awkward silence as they walked to and from classes and at lunch. Joanna and Meg did their best to act as though they didn't know anything, which Rose was grateful for.

When the long school day ended, Rose drove Jack home, grateful that Marietta had given her that particular afternoon off.

"I don't feel too great, Rose," Jack admitted as they went into his house.

"I don't either," Rose admitted, and the two of them sat down in the living room, too anxious to turn on the television set. They sat staring off into space, jumping at the slightest creak or the sound of a car whizzing past outside. When James Dawson returned home from work around 4:30, he looked at his son.

"Any news yet?" he asked, and Jack shook his head.

"Nothing, Dad."

"Why is it taking so long?" Rose cried, throwing her hands exasperatedly into the air.

"I'm sure it's pretty busy at the hospital," Mr. Dawson replied. "Your mom called," he added. "She had to stay late at work to finish up some paperwork, but she said to call her as soon as you find out. She should be back by seven."

Jack swallowed, nodding. "Rose, let's go to my room, okay?" he whispered, and Rose agreed.

"Staying for dinner?" James asked as they made their way towards the narrow corridor.

"Uh…" Rose looked at Jack.

"We'll probably just order a pizza," James explained, and Jack shrugged.

"I…" Rose felt Jack squeeze her hand comfortingly. "If…you don't mind," she replied, not having the least bit of desire to go home.

"You know we don't," James insisted. "I have to make a stop at the grocery store, though, to do a bit of food shopping since your mom's going to be late. I shouldn't be more than an hour or so, okay?"

"Okay," Jack called, pulling Rose into his bedroom. The two of them sat on the edge of the bed, glancing at each other every now and again.

Around five, the phone rang, and Jack leapt up from his bed, snatching the receiver from the phone on his desk. Rose felt her heart stop in mid-beat and immediately hopped to her feet.

"Hello?" Jack croaked, and reached out so Rose could hold his hand for support.

"Jack? This is Dr. Stellar. I apologize for taking so long to get back to you, but it has been a bit of a madhouse today."

"Is…how did the tests turn out?" Jack asked, feeling faint.

There was silence on the other end, and Rose could see the blood drain from his face. "Dr. Stellar?" he asked. "What's wrong with me?"

"I'm afraid the results were not very good, Jack," Dr. Stellar replied softly.

"I…I have it again, don't I?" Jack asked, and Rose covered her mouth with her free hand. _No, _she thought. _No, no, no, no…_

"I am going to give you the news in as straightforward a manner as possible, Jack, because you are of age to hear it yourself. Yes, you do have leukemia again."

Jack stood very still. "Jack? Are you all right, son?" The doctor's voice spoke again, but Jack couldn't speak. The phone suddenly slipped from his hand, crashing to the floor. He let go of Rose and immediately fled from the room. Rose watched as he disappeared down the hall and knelt down to pick up the phone. She put the receiver timidly to her ear and took a deep breath.

"Dr. Stellar? This is Jack's girlfriend, Rose."

"Ah…yes. We have met before. Is he all right?"

"I don't think so," Rose admitted. "What did you tell him, sir, if you don't mind repeating the information?"

"I am sorry, Rose, but by law I am not allowed to repeat a patient's information to anyone unless he specifically requests it."

Rose closed her eyes. "I…I understand." She sighed, wishing she could reach her hand through the phone and strangle the doctor.

"Tell Jack that he needs to set up an appointment with me as soon as he is available," Dr. Stellar added.

Rose nodded. "I will. Th-thank you." She listened as the doctor hung up the phone and stood staring at the receiver for a moment or two without speaking. She put it back on the hook and left the room to find where Jack had gone.

"Jack?" she called, hoping he wasn't doing anything stupid. "Jack, where are you?"

She saw that he was sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his arms, sobbing quietly. "Oh, God, Jack…" She pulled a chair close to him and ran her fingers through his hair. "What did the doctor say? He wouldn't tell me anything because of that damned privacy law."

Jack gulped for air, lifting his tear-stained face. "Oh, Rose…" he choked. "I need my mother," he added, sounding so pathetic that Rose wanted to burst into tears herself.

"It's true, then, isn't it?" she whispered. "That you have leukemia again?"

Jack turned away, and Rose felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. "I need to be left alone," he told her, and Rose swallowed hard.

"Jack, I don't think that's such a good idea," she replied, and he looked at her.

"I need to be alone," he repeated, and Rose sighed.

"Don't forget to call your mom," she said, feeling as though her heart had been torn into a million pieces. Jack turned away again, his chin in his palm, and Rose stood up. She wasn't sure if she wanted to leave him alone at this point in time, but she didn't want to make him angry, either. She kissed his cheek quickly before turning and heading towards the front door.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Jack sat at the table for a moment after Rose left, listening to her footsteps retreating down the sidewalk. When she was gone, he sat up, scrubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

_Leukemia. Again._ He couldn't believe it. After surviving it twice, after going through all the misery of chemotherapy and radiation treatment, after searching unsuccessfully for a bone marrow donor, why did he have to go through it a third time?

What were the odds of surviving it a third time?

Slowly, Jack got to his feet, going to look out the kitchen window at the late afternoon sunlight. A bird pecked hungrily at the feeder his mother had hung outside the window while another bird flew around furiously, trying to scare the hungry bird away, but he saw none of it.

He stared out the window in a daze. _It's an omen_, he thought. _I should have known this was coming. Not just because of the symptoms, but…everything is so strange now. It feels like fall, even though it's too soon. It's just going to get darker, and colder, and…isn't that the way things end, dark and cold and alone?_

_What are the chances that I'll survive a third bout with leukemia? Once or twice, sure, but three times? What's the point in even trying?_

He turned away from the window slowly, his unfocused gaze landing on the rack of kitchen knives attached to the cabinet beside it.

_What's the use? I'll just go through all the misery of chemotherapy and radiation—and who knows what other forms of torture they've thought of—only to die anyway._

His eyes focused on the rack of knives of now, he reached towards them slowly and contemplatively, not sure what he really intended to do.

He spun around, startled, his feet catching on the throw rug in front of the sink and almost tripping him when the door flew open with a bang and Rose rushed in, breathing hard.

She took in everything with a glance—Jack's pale, tear-streaked face, the desperate look on his face, the rack of sharp knives within easy reach…

"Jack!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

* * *

Rose was halfway up the walk of her own house when she stopped, a knot forming in her stomach as she looked back at Jack's house. _I should go back,_ she thought. _He shouldn't be alone right now._

She shook her head, forcing herself to walk towards her own front door. Jack wanted to be alone right now, and she would respect his wishes. By the time she got to her door, though, her conscience was screaming at her. _Go back! There's a reason why he wants to be alone right now—the same you reason you wanted to be left alone on that boulder six weeks ago!_

Rose stopped, looking at the door. She should respect his wishes and leave him alone—but she couldn't. She just couldn't.

Turning on her heel, Rose raced back down the walkway. Ruth was pulling into the driveway as she ran down it, tires screeching as she braked hard.

"Rose! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ruth shouted at her as Rose darted around the car and headed for the driveway of the Dawson house.

"Sorry, Mom! I'll be back later!"

Rose raced up the Dawsons' walkway. Ruth shouted something after her, but Rose didn't hear what it was. She yanked back the screen and threw the door open, coming to a sudden halt as she saw Jack standing at the kitchen window, reaching towards a rack full of sharp cutlery.

"Jack!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

Jack and Rose stared at each other for a moment, neither sure what to do. Jack tried to step away from the counter, but his feet tangled in the throw rug, almost sending him toppling to the floor. He gripped the edge of the counter for balance, trying to think of what to say.

"I…uh…um…nothing. Nothing, really," he tried to say, but much to his embarrassment, his eyes welled up and he turned his head away, not wanting Rose to see him cry again.

Rose sighed and came towards him, helping him untangle his feet from the rug and putting her arms around him. "Jack…you were thinking the same thing I was that night in the hills, weren't you?"

He stiffened, blinking his eyes rapidly and trying to avoid her gaze. "No."

"Jack…" He tried to pull away, but Rose tightened her arms around him, refusing to let him go. "I'm not going anywhere…not until your dad gets home, at least. I don't think you should be alone right now."

He finally succeeded in breaking free of her grip, striding into the living room and collapsing on the couch. Rose followed slowly, sinking down beside him.

"Leave me alone."

"No, Jack."

He turned away, crossing his arms as though to protect himself. "Why are you here? What do you see in me? I'm just a teenage freak with cancer."

"You're not a freak." Rose wrapped her arms around him. "I love you, and I can't stand seeing you like this."

"It's the way I am, Rose. Deal with it."

Rose took a deep breath. "Jack, I know you're upset, but…I saw you reaching towards those kitchen knives. You were thinking about…about suicide, weren't you?"

He didn't answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was choked and shaky. "Yes."

"Oh, Jack." Rose sighed, putting her head on his shoulder. "Don't. Please, don't. It wouldn't solve anything, you know. You talked me out of it back in August."

"I know, but…that was different."

"I felt like I had no way out, but when you talked to me, I started to see that no matter how hard it was, no matter how bad things were, it wasn't worth killing myself over."

She felt his shoulders start to shake. "You don't understand." He put his hands over his face, trying to hide his tears from her.

Rose picked up a box of Kleenex from the coffee table and handed it to him. Slowly, she turned him to face her, putting a hand gently on his cheek. "Then tell me."

He grabbed a tissue, wiping his eyes and nose. "I'm sorry." He felt like an idiot for crying like this, but he'd never been very good at handling bad diagnoses.

"It's okay." Rose hugged him.

He took a deep, shaky breath, nodding. "Rose…you don't know what it's like to have cancer…to go through the treatment for it. Chemotherapy is…one of the worst treatments imaginable. Basically, you're being poisoned in order to kill the cancer cells. It makes you sick all the time…like the worst case of stomach flu imaginable, except it lasts longer. Your hair falls out…I went completely bald the first time, though the second time my hair just thinned like a middle-aged man's. You feel weak and exhausted, you're vulnerable to catching every infection making the rounds…and even with all that, there's no guarantee of a cure.

"And then there's radiation treatment…that's used to treat leukemia when it's gotten into the brain and spinal cord because the body keeps the chemo out of those parts. Of course, to find out if the leukemia has spread into your brain and spinal cord, you have to have a spinal tap…I've never been able to get through those without a blinding headache that makes the nausea even worse. And when leukemia cells are found in the spinal fluid, you have to go through radiation treatment, which gives you some of the same side effects as chemo but also makes your skin feel burned…kind of like a sunburn is the best way I can describe it."

"But when the treatment's done, you get better, don't you?" Rose asked, allowing him to rest his head tiredly on her shoulder.

"Yes, but…Rose, this is my third bout with leukemia. The fact that it keeps coming back means that I've never been completely cured, and the disease gets stronger and more resistant to the drugs every time. My parents searched for a bone marrow donor for me…they even contacted my biological family, but no one was a match. Since I can't have a bone marrow transplant, I have to rely on the chemotherapy and radiation and whatever else might have been invented…but it takes stronger and stronger doses to kill the cancer cells and get me back to remission, so there's less chance that I'll go into remission and more chance that I'll die from the treatment itself."

His voice wavered again, but he took a deep breath, suppressing the tears. "I'll have to go into the hospital soon for treatment…and I may never come out. The odds of a third remission aren't good. All that misery, and I'll probably die anyway. What's the use? If I end things right now, I won't have to suffer through all that."

"Jack…" Rose hugged him tightly. "You don't know for sure that the treatment won't work. I mean, there's research being done all the time into curing cancer, and maybe this time you'll get better and stay that way. You won't know unless you try."

"I can't do this, Rose."

"Yes, you can. You talked me out of making a terrible mistake, and I'm not letting you go until you promise me you won't make the same mistake."

"Rose…"

"Promise me, Jack." Rose looked at him pleadingly.

Jack sighed, looking down, but finally turned his face towards hers. "I promise."

"You're sure?"

"I promise I won't harm myself."

"Good. Thank you, Jack. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"It may happen anyway…"

"Don't think about that. Think about getting better."

"I'll try." He wrapped his arms around her, looking exhausted.

"Have you called your mom yet?"

"No…not yet."

"You should call her…she needs to know that you're…that you've got…"

"That I've got leukemia again." He looked down. "I'll go call her."

"When you've done that, maybe you can tell me about…about when you had cancer before, when you were a kid."

Jack looked at her, trying to think of how to describe his past experiences…they hadn't been pleasant. "Sure. After I call my mom…it wasn't nice, but I'll tell you about when I was sick as a kid."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

_October, 1997_

Jack sat in a chair in the nurse's office at Nan Sanders Elementary School, a tissue pressed to his bleeding nose. Several more tissues lay discarded beside him.

This was the third time this week that he had suffered a nosebleed at school, and his teacher, who had sent him to the restroom the first two times, had shaken her head in worry and sent him to the nurse with a note. The nurse had handed him a box of Kleenex and reached for the phone to call his mother.

Jack pulled the tissue away from his nose to see if the bleeding had stopped, then groaned to himself as blood started dripping down his face again. He picked up a fresh tissue and squeezed his nose shut.

The nurse looked over at him, frowning at the number of bruises marring the boy's thin arms and legs. It wasn't unusual for sixth grade boys to have their share of bruises, cuts, and scrapes—the rough and tumble games so many of them played made such injuries common—but eleven-year-old Jack Dawson had more bruises than could be normally accounted for even by such activities. Unless he had taken to frequent fistfights or made a general habit of tumbling off his bike or skateboard, something else was going on.

Ordinarily, she would have called Child Protective Services when a child displayed so many bruises, as such injuries were sometimes a sign that they were being abused, but she had known Jack's mother, Lorraine Dawson, for many years and doubted that either she or her husband were harming the boy. Furthermore, she had known Jack since he had entered kindergarten in 1991 and had burned himself on a hot metal slide on the first day. She had seen him occasionally since then for the usual injuries and illnesses that kids were prone to, but this bruising was new. If he was being abused, it was a recent occurrence.

Her call finally went through. A moment later, the phone was picked up.

"Riverside County Department of Social Services. Lorraine Dawson speaking."

"Hi, Lorraine. This is Elisa Chavez."

"Elisa, what's going on?" Elisa often contacted her when a child on her caseload wound up in the nurse's office.

"Jack's in the nurse's office."

"Jack?" Lorraine frowned. Elisa had only called her because of Jack once before, when he was in third grade and had insisted that he was well enough to go to school, only to throw up on one of his classmates an hour later. Lorraine had had to leave work to pick him and take him home; she had sympathized with his misery, but had still been annoyed that he had insisted he was feeling fine when he wasn't. But then, Jack had never liked to admit to not feeling well. "What happened?"

"He has a nosebleed."

"A nosebleed? What was he doing?"

"Just sitting in class, as far as I can tell." She paused. "The teacher sent a note saying this is the third time this week it's happened."

Lorraine sighed. "Why am I not surprised that he didn't tell me or his father about this?"

Elisa chuckled in spite of herself. "Knowing your son, he probably decided that it wasn't worth mentioning." She sobered. "Lorraine, this many nosebleeds with no discernable cause aren't normal. And the air isn't dry enough right now to have caused spontaneous bleeding. He also has a large number of bruises on his arms and legs."

"I've wondered about those, too, but he insists that they don't hurt and he doesn't know where they came from. James and I have decided to take him to the doctor if the bruises don't clear up soon, though."

"What does he do after school before you or your husband get home? Does he have a new baby-sitter?"

"He's been working on his homework with a college student who lives on our street every day after school this year, but I've known her since she was eleven years old. She hates causing pain to anyone, so I don't think she's abusing him."

"Does he get into fights with other kids a lot, or fall off his bike or skateboard often?"

"If he's getting into fights, I haven't heard about it, and I make sure I know where he is and who he's with most of the time. And I'm pretty sure the school would tell me if he was fighting there. As to falling off his bike or a skateboard—he's always been a good rider. It took him a grand total of two days to learn to ride without training wheels when he was six. He doesn't have his own skateboard, though I know he sometimes borrows the skateboards of the kids across the street from us. But it's like with the bike-riding—he's got good balance and always has. And even though he doesn't like it, James and I make sure he wears a helmet and knee and elbow pads. We'd as soon not see him split his head open or mangle his limbs if an accident does happen."

"I see." Elisa thought for a moment before going on. "Has he shown any signs of loss of appetite or excessive fatigue?"

"Now that you mention it, he has been eating less of his dinner lately than usual, but he just had a growth spurt, and he may not need to eat as much right now. And he has dozed off in front of the TV a few times and is spending less time playing outside than he used to. James keeps encouraging him to shoot hoops with him in the driveway—they both love basketball—but it seems that Jack would rather lay in the hammock or on the couch than do much these days." She paused as a beep sounded from the phone. "Excuse me, Elisa. I have a call on another line. Can you hold on a moment?"

"Sure."

When Lorraine came back on the line, she asked, "Why are you asking all these questions? Does something other than bruises and a nosebleed seem wrong?"

"I'm not sure, but the symptoms indicate that something could be wrong. I would recommend that you take him to the doctor as soon as possible, just to be safe."

_The Next Day_

"Dad!" Jack whined, sitting at the table with his arms crossed and a sulky look on his face. "I don't need to go to the doctor! I feel fine."

"Nevertheless, the school nurse recommended that your mother make an appointment with Dr. Linaweaver for you as soon as possible, and this morning was the first appointment open. Since your mother has an important meeting today, I took a few hours off work to take you to see him."

"But I'm fine!"

"Jack, you would say you were fine if a rattlesnake bit you. I know you very well, so don't even try to get out of it."

"But Dad—"

"That's enough, Jack. Finish your breakfast."

"It smells funny."

"It smells fine to me, and you hardly ate any dinner last night. So don't tell me you aren't hungry."

"I don't like scrambled eggs."

"You liked them well enough the last time I made them for you."

"I don't like them now."

"You're acting like a spoiled brat, Jack. I'm not buying you any snacks on the way to Riverside or on the way back, so you'd better eat now."

"I'm not hungry."

James sighed in exasperation. "If you'll eat three bites, I'll leave you alone, okay? But don't complain about being hungry later."

Jack glared at him, but finally started nibbling at the eggs, still not hungry, but too tired to keep fighting with his dad about it.

* * *

Just before nine o'clock, James pulled into a parking space outside the pediatric wing of the Riverside Medical Clinic. He turned to Jack, realizing that his son had fallen asleep and was snoring softly.

"Jack, wake up. We're here." He shook him gently.

"Huh?" Jack opened his eyes, looking blearily at his father.

"We're at the doctor's office."

"Oh." Jack yawned widely, reluctantly unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door of the car. "I'm really okay…"

"Enough of that, Jack. We'll let Dr. Linaweaver check you over and see if you're okay or not."

* * *

Jack sat on the examining table as Dr. Linaweaver listened to his heartbeat and breathing. Finally, the doctor nodded and took the stethoscope out of his ears, turning to James.

"He has extensive bruising over his arms and legs, as you said, and some bruising on the head and torso as well. He has a slight fever and swollen glands."

"So you think it's an infection of some sort?"

"Not exactly." Dr. Linaweaver hesitated. "Mr. Dawson, if you'll step into the hall with me for a moment…"

A worried frown crossed James' face, but he nodded. "Jack, get dressed," he instructed, getting to his feet and following the doctor into the hallway.

Dr. Linaweaver closed the door quietly behind them and turned to James. "The extensive bruising, lack of appetite, fatigue, and frequent nosebleeds, combined together, are worrisome, but the presence of swollen, painless, rubbery-feeling glands may point to leukemia."

"Leukemia!" James stared at the doctor in shock. "But…that's impossible! He's only eleven years old!"

"Leukemia is one of the most common childhood cancers."

"But how? How could he get leukemia? We don't let him eat a lot of junk food or sit in the sun too long without sunscreen, and we don't keep many chemicals in the house—none of those things that can cause cancer. Perris isn't an industrial area, either, so there's not a lot of chemical dumping except from meth labs, and he's never shown any signs of having problems with smog. Neither his mother nor I smoke, either."

"The cause of leukemia can't usually be determined, especially in children. There are cases where it's caused by radiation or chemicals, but that's unlikely in Jack's case. It can also be inherited. His records indicate that he was adopted. Do you have access to his family's medical history?"

"They would probably share it if we asked—we know his blood relatives—but we've never had cause to look into it. All I know is that his birth parents died in a house fire when he was two weeks old, and his other relatives were unable to take him in, so Lorraine and I were able to adopt him."

"Does he know he was adopted?"

"No, and please don't tell him. Lorraine and I would prefer to tell him ourselves."

"I'm ordering blood tests and a bone marrow aspiration to confirm the diagnosis. You can go straight to the lab. I would like to see him back in here next Thursday. The results should be available by then."

* * *

"Why do I have to get blood tests?" Jack and James were sitting in the waiting room outside the lab. "And what's a bone marrow aspirin?"

"A bone marrow aspiration," James corrected him quietly. He had been almost silent since Dr. Linaweaver had told him his suspicions, telling Jack only that they needed to go the lab for some tests. Jack had taken the paper and tried to read the doctor's sloppy handwriting, but found that he didn't understand half of it anyway.

"What's it for?"

"Dr. Linaweaver isn't sure what the problem is, so he ordered tests to find out."

"What does he think it is?" Jack looked at his dad. "What did he say while I was getting dressed? Is there something wrong with me?"

"He's not sure, Jack. That's why he wants you to get these blood tests and the bone marrow aspiration."

"What's a bone marrow aspiration?"

"I'm not sure, but we'll find out."

"What did he think was wrong?" Jack was beginning to get worried. His dad wasn't usually so quiet and secretive.

"He wasn't sure."

"But what did he think it was?"

"We don't know yet."

"But he thought it was something."

"And when he knows, he'll tell us."

"But I want to know—"

"Thirty-four. Number thirty-four," the intercom announced.

James stood. "That's you, Jack. Come on."

He escorted Jack into the lab, where a technician greeted them politely and took the paper with the test order on it. As he got the needle and vials for the blood, Jack turned to his dad.

"Are they going to give me a shot?"

"Not exactly. They're going to stick you with a needle, but they'll be taking blood out instead of putting anything into you."

Jack frowned at the equipment in front of him. He hated being stuck with needles. They didn't scare him, exactly, but he didn't enjoy it, either.

"Ow!" he complained as the technician put on the tourniquet, then tested his vein.

"It'll only hurt for a minute," the man assured him, taking the needle and quickly sticking Jack's arm with it.

Jack looked with interest as the first vial filled with blood. There was a brownish-purple tint to it that he had never seen before.

"That looks funny," he commented. "Does that color mean I'm sick?"

"No," the technician told him, "it doesn't mean you're sick. That's the normal color of blood from a vein."

"What's a vein?"

"That's the blood vessel I put the needle in."

"How come the blood doesn't look like that when my nose bleeds?"

"Because it's been exposed to air, and air makes it turn bright red."

"Oh." Jack stared as the last vial was filled with blood. The tourniquet still hurt, and he still didn't like the needle, but the strange-colored blood was interesting.

The technician loosened the tourniquet and took it off, then pressed a cotton ball over the needle and slid it out, putting a band-aid over the small injury.

Jack made a face when he saw the band-aid. "Barney! He's stupid."

The technician shrugged. "Sorry. We don't have any other kinds of band-aids right now."

"Be nice, Jack," James told him, frowning at his son. "You can take it off in a little while."

The technician pointed to an open doorway down the hall. "I need you to go in there now. Someone will be with you shortly to do the bone marrow aspiration."

* * *

Jack lay on the cold metal table, watching nervously as the young female technician swabbed something on his hip.

"What's that for?"

"It's to make it hurt less when the needle goes into the bone."

"You're sticking a needle into my bones?"

"That's how a bone marrow aspiration is done."

"What's it for?"

"To see if there are certain kinds of cells in your bone marrow."

"Cells?"

James shook his head at the technician, signaling to her not to tell him. He didn't want to scare Jack needlessly—if it was leukemia, they'd explain to him about it when the diagnosis was confirmed, and if it wasn't, there was no use in frightening or confusing the boy.

"Things that don't belong there." She pushed him into a position where she could insert the needle. "Hold still."

"Dad…" Jack didn't like this at all.

James put a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder. "Just hold still, Jack. The sooner she gets it done, the sooner you can get off this table."

Jack nodded and bit his lip, trying to be brave, but when the technician inserted the needle, he cried out and tried to pull away.

"Hold still!" she told him, steadying him as she began the bone marrow aspiration.

"It hurts!"

James rubbed Jack's back soothingly. "I know it does, but try to hold still. It'll be over in a minute."

Jack put his hands over his face, trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

The technician finished the aspiration and put a bandage over the spot, then took the sample towards the lab. Jack sniffed miserably as James helped him up, ducking his head to hide his face.

"Jack, I know this is scary. It's okay to cry," James told him, handing him a tissue from a box on a nearby table.

"I'm not scared," Jack sniffed, wiping his eyes. "It just hurt. And I'm too old to cry."

"No, you're not. Everybody cries sometimes."

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh." James hugged his son, letting him rest his head against his shoulder. "Don't be embarrassed, Jack."

"Everybody's gonna laugh when I walk out there."

"No, they won't. Most people won't even notice you've been crying."

Jack wiped his nose on his sleeve, not really agreeing, but hoping at the same time that his dad was right.

James handed him another tissue. "Why don't you wipe your nose on this instead?"

Jack nodded, taking the tissue and wiping his face.

James looked at his watch. "That took longer than I thought. I don't think I'm going to make it back to work on time. What do you say I call the high school and tell them I'll need a sub for the rest of the day, and then we'll go have some lunch? You can go back to school tomorrow."

"I thought you said you weren't going to buy me any snacks."

"It's about lunchtime, so we'll go to McDonald's or something."

Jack took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay," he agreed. He gave his dad a hopeful look. "Can I have a Happy Meal?"

James ruffled his son's hair. "Sure."

_Thursday_

"How come you're both still home?" Jack eyed his parents suspiciously as he walked into the kitchen. He wasn't going to school today because he had an important doctor's appointment, but usually only one of his parents stayed home to take him to the doctor.

Lorraine gripped her coffee mug tightly. "It's because of your doctor's appointment today, sweetie," she told him, glancing at him briefly before looking blankly at the newspaper in front of her. She had been tense and worried since James had told her what Dr. Linaweaver suspected.

Jack sat down in his chair. "But usually only one of you takes me." He looked from one to the other, trying to get them to meet his eyes. They'd been having quiet conversations that stopped as soon as he came into the room, and once he'd seen his mom staring out the kitchen window, looking like she was going to cry. He'd asked what was wrong, but she'd waved him off, assuring him that she'd just had a long day at work.

Jack knew that something was wrong, and he suspected it had to do with him, but neither of his parents would answer his questions. In spite of what he'd told his dad, whatever it was that had them so worried was starting to scare him, too—but he didn't know what he was supposed to be afraid of.

James glanced at his watch, then pushed his chair back. "We should get going," he told Jack and Lorraine, trying to inject a note of cheer into his voice.

"Dad…" Jack looked up at him. "What's wrong with me?"

"We don't know, Jack. Maybe nothing."

"But what do you think it is?"

"Let's go find out what the doctor says, shall we?"

"But, Dad…"

Lorraine put a hand on his back, pushing him gently towards the door. "Let's go, Jack. The doctor will tell us if there's anything to worry about."

* * *

Jack sat in a hard plastic chair in Dr. Linaweaver's office, tapping his fingers on the armrests. His parents sat on either side of him, both looking tense and worried as the doctor pulled Jack's chart and set it on the desk in front of him.

Jack leaned forward, hoping that he would finally find out what had his parents so worried.

Dr. Linaweaver opened the chart and looked at it grimly as the elder Dawsons exchanged worried glances. Finally, he spoke.

"The test results were positive. Jack has acute lymphocytic leukemia."

"Leukemia!" Lorraine cried softly, then clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes darting from the doctor to her son.

James leaned forward. "Dr. Linaweaver, are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"What's leukemia?" Jack asked, looking from his parents to the doctor. Whatever it was, it was bad, but he wasn't sure what was wrong with him. He didn't think he'd ever heard of it before.

"It's a cancer of the white blood cells," Dr. Linaweaver explained, looking at him seriously.

Jack frowned. "My blood is red, or purplish-brown when it comes out of a vein," he asserted. "It's not white."

"You can only see white blood cells under a microscope," the doctor explained. "Do you know what cells are?"

"Yeah. My teacher talked about them when we had science yesterday. They're these tiny things that make up the whole body."

"Exactly."

"So my blood has cancer in it?" Jack knew what cancer was—he'd read a book about someone who had it.

"Yes."

"Am I going to die?"

"Jack!" Lorraine scolded him. "What a thing to ask!"

"No, Mrs. Dawson, he has a right to know. He's old enough to understand." Turning to Jack, he told him, "We hope not. There are very good treatments for leukemia now, and the majority of kids who get it get better."

"Will I have to take medicine?"

"Yes. You'll have to stay in the hospital, too." He looked at James and Lorraine. "I've already made arrangements for him to be admitted to the hospital at Loma Linda University this afternoon."

"This afternoon! So soon?" James stared at Dr. Linaweaver in disbelief.

"The sooner treatment is started, the better his chances are."

"Why do I have to go to the hospital?" Jack interrupted. "Why can't I just take medicine at home?" He thought for a moment. "What about school?"

"At the hospital you can get special care that you can't get at home," Dr. Linaweaver told him. "Until you're in remission—until there's no more cancer in your blood—you'll have to stay in the hospital. After that, you can come home, but you'll still have to take medicine for two or three years and have regular check-ups."

"That's a long time."

"Yes, but it's to make sure you get better and stay better."

"What about school?" Jack asked again.

"You'll be able to study and do your work in the hospital when you feel up to it."

"How long will I have to be in hospital?"

"It depends on how long it takes you to achieve remission. Some people can leave it in just a few weeks, while other people are there for months." He didn't say it, but he knew what both parents were thinking. _Some people never come out at all_. He hoped very much that young Jack Dawson wouldn't be one of them.

"What should we pack for him?" Lorraine asked, putting a trembling arm around her son.

"Just simple things…his pajamas if he wears them, books that he likes, his homework, maybe handheld video games if he has them and isn't afraid of losing them. No valuables, nothing that you don't want to lose. No food or medicine—that'll all be provided for him there."

"Can I bring my sketchpad?" Jack interrupted. Drawing had always been one of his favorite activities.

"Of course." Dr. Linaweaver smiled briefly at him, then turned back to his parents. "The hospital is expecting him between three and four this afternoon. He'll be in pediatric oncology with a lot of other kids."

"I feel fine," Jack spoke up hopefully, although, in truth, he felt tired, achy, and short of breath. "Are you sure I have cancer?"

"Unfortunately, yes. That's why you're going into the hospital—so the cancer can be treated and you can get better."

* * *

The Dawsons got into the car in silence. Jack buckled himself into the back seat, staring out the window, while James and Lorraine slipped into the front seat, not speaking and not sure what to say. This was something they had never anticipated.

Lorraine stared resolutely ahead, occasionally wiping her eyes as James pulled out of the parking lot. Finally, she spoke.

"I told you we needed to take him to the doctor when he started getting all those bruises."

James sighed. "It wouldn't have changed the diagnosis. The leukemia has been causing those bruises."

"You heard what Dr. Linaweaver said. The sooner he starts treatment, the better his chances of recovery are."

"We'll take him to the hospital this afternoon."

"We should have taken him to the doctor weeks ago! But no. You said that kids will be kids, and it's normal for kids to get a few bruises."

"I didn't know, okay? Neither of us knew the symptoms of leukemia."

"I knew all those bruises weren't normal, but you said we should wait and see if they cleared up."

"And I was wrong, but we can't change things. We can only get him the treatment he needs and hope for the best."

"Maybe you just don't care."

James slammed on the brakes, turning to his wife furiously. "Lorraine, don't you ever accuse me of not caring about our son!" There were loud honks from drivers swerving around them, but he paid no attention. "I do care about him, but like everyone else, I make mistakes! You aren't so perfect yourself. You didn't have to listen to me. You could have taken him to the doctor."

"Stop fighting!" Jack demanded, leaning forward and poking his head between the seats. "I'm the one who's sick! You should be taking care of me, not fighting!"

"Jack, stay out of this," Lorraine told him, her voice carefully controlled.

"But I'm the one you're fighting about." He turned as something caught his eye. "Hey, Dad, I think that cop wants you to move."

James looked in the rear-view mirror. "Goddammit!" He rolled down his window. "Yes, officer?"

"Is there a problem here?"

"Not really…"

"I've got leukemia, and they're mad at each other," Jack put in helpfully.

"Jack, stop it," Lorraine warned him.

"But Mom—"

"If you need to stop and talk about something, you need to pull over somewhere safe, not stop in the middle of a busy thoroughfare." He looked at James. "I'll let it go this time, but you need to move someplace safe. Okay?"

James sighed. "Sure. Thanks, officer." When the man headed back towards his car, James put his foot on the gas, moving back into traffic.

They didn't speak the rest of the way home.

* * *

Jack sat on his bed, clutching his sketchpad, as Lorraine bustled around his room, packing the things he would need in the hospital into a duffel bag.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"How long am I going to have to stay in the hospital?"

"I don't know, Jack. As long as it takes for you to get better."

"What if I don't get better?"

"You'll get better, Jack."

"But what if I don't?"

Lorraine stopped, turning to him. "Jack—"

"I don't want to die, Mom." Jack's voice quivered, his lower lip trembling. "I don't want to die."

Lorraine sat beside him, pulling him into her lap. He didn't resist, although, at eleven, he usually considered himself too old to sit in anyone's lap.

He buried his face in his mother's shoulder, not trying to stop his tears. "I don't wanna die, Mom."

Lorraine stroked his hair. "We don't want you to die, either, Jack," she told him. "We're going to make sure you have the best care possible so you'll get better."

"I'm scared."

Lorraine hugged him, rocking him gently. It was a rare admission for him to make—he was as filled with bravado as the next sixth-grade boy, and didn't like anybody to know that some things still scared him.

James came in to see if they were ready, seeing Lorraine sitting with Jack in her lap, the boy sobbing quietly into her shoulder. He sat down next to them, unsure whether Lorraine was still upset with him from earlier, and put his arms around both of them, gently rubbing his son's back.

"It's okay to be scared, Jack," he told him. "We're scared, too."

Jack raised his head slightly. "Why? You don't have cancer, do you?"

"No, but we're scared for you, because you do have it, and we want you to get better."

"Dad? Do you think I'm going to die?"

"I hope not, Jack. Dr. Linaweaver says the majority of kids who have leukemia get better, so probably not."

"What we do want you to do is listen to the doctors and do what they and the nurses say. Take your medicine and don't hide it and pretend you've taken it like you do with us."

Jack looked a little sheepish. "That was only once, and it tasted funny."

"Well, the medicine you'll be taking now might do more than taste funny, but we want you to take it anyway. It'll make you better."

Jack nodded, sitting up and wiping his face. "Can I take a picture of you guys to the hospital with me?"

"Of course," James told him, patting his back gently before standing. "I'll go find one for you."

"Are you guys still mad at each other?"

Lorraine smiled gently, picking up his duffel bag. "No, sweetie. Not anymore."

"That's good." Jack gave them both hugs. "I'm gonna get better. Just wait."

James ruffled his son's hair. "I'm sure you will, Jack. I'm sure you will."

_October 30, 1997_

"I hate it here," Jack groaned, curled up on his side with an emesis basin a few inches from his face. "I want to go home."

"Just remember that it's helping you get better, Jack," Lorraine told him, sitting in a chair beside his bed.

Jack had just been through his first round of IV chemotherapy and was feeling worse than he ever had in his life.

"I think they're trying to kill me, Mom."

James rubbed his son's back gently. "They're not trying to kill you, Jack. They're trying to make you better."

"Dad…this sucks. I hate chemo. I hate throwing up…I want to go home."

"We'd like to take you home, too, Jack…but if you don't get your leukemia treated, you'll die. And we don't want that."

Jack just groaned, reaching for the basin. "I think I'm gonna throw up…"

A couple of minutes later, he handed the basin to Lorraine. "Can you empty that for me, Mom? And then bring it back. I might need it again." He put his head down, moving his eyes to look at James. "I didn't know anybody could throw up that much. Do you think it helps make the leukemia go away?"

"I don't think so, Jack. I think the medicine would help whether you threw up or not."

"Then why do I gotta throw up so much? I hate it…I was feeling better until they gave me that stupid chemotherapy."

"I'm sure you were. The blood transfusion they gave you helped a lot. But it's the chemo that kills the cancer cells."

Lorraine brought the basin back, setting it gingerly next to him. "How are you feeling now, sweetie?"

"I hate cancer."

"_Everybody_ hates cancer," the boy in the next bed, a skinny, bald twelve-year-old, told him. "It's gross and stupid and chemo's worse than the flu and a cold and my aunt's gross perfume put together."

Jack looked at him tiredly, worn out from his chemo session. "Yeah," he agreed. "And worse than my mom's turkey meatloaf."

"Jack!"

"Sorry, Mom."

"But we gotta stay here until we get _remission_," the boy went on, "even if it takes six years or whatever. So you can't go home until the doctor says you can. Besides, if you went home now, you'd miss the Halloween party they're having for us tomorrow."

"You see, Jack?" Lorraine stroked his hair gently. "That gives you something to look forward to."

"I still hate leukemia," he complained, his eyes drooping shut.

"I know you do."

_December 25, 1997_

"Merry Christmas, Jack." James and Lorraine entered the room, each carrying a pile of brightly wrapped gifts.

"Merry Christmas," Jack responded listlessly, looking at the empty bed beside him.

"What's wrong, Jack?" Lorraine set the packages down and pulled up a chair.

"My friend, Eric…he was in the bed next to me…he died. He kept getting skinnier and skinnier and they stopped giving him chemo, and I thought he was lucky, but then…he wouldn't wake up yesterday and all the doctors were in here…and he died and they took him away."

"Oh, Jack." Lorraine put her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

"Why'd he have to die, Mom? He was only twelve—and it was Christmas Eve, too. Nobody should die on Christmas Eve." His eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know, Jack…I can't tell you why he died. Maybe it was his time."

"It's not fair…kids shouldn't die. He kept talking about all the things he was gonna do when he got better…and now he'll never do them."

"I'm sorry, Jack. I know how much it hurts to lose a friend."

Jack sniffed, wiping his eyes. "How do you know?"

"When I was a little older than you…when I was twelve…one of my friends got hit by a car walking home from school. She died at the hospital a few hours later. The person who hit her was never found."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't know one of your friends died."

"I never told you before."

"Jack…" James pulled up another chair and sat down beside his wife. "We brought Christmas presents and we have something important to talk to you about, but if you'd rather wait until later, we'll understand."

"No…it's okay…what did you have to talk to me about?"

Lorraine took an envelope from her purse. "It's this."

She handed him the envelope. Jack took it, pulling out the paper inside.

"What is it?"

"It's your birth certificate."

Jack looked at it curiously, then frowned. "No, it isn't. This belongs to someone named David Jackson. I think they sent you the wrong one."

"It is yours, Jack," James told him. "That's what we need to talk to you about."

"But my name's not David Jackson."

"Jack…" James hesitated, not sure how to tell him. "After you were…diagnosed…your mother and I decided to look into your family's medical background to see if anyone else had leukemia."

"What does that have to do with this birth certificate?"

Lorraine took his hand. "You're adopted, Jack."

"That's not funny, Mom."

"It isn't meant to be funny, Jack. It's the truth."

Jack looked at them, his eyes wide with shock. "What? How come you didn't tell me that before?"

"We wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand. Now that we've contacted your birth family, they'd like to meet you, once you get well."

"You're not my parents?"

"We are your parents, Jack, in every way that matters. We may not have brought you into the world, but we've raised you since you were a tiny baby, and we've loved you all that time," James told him, running a hand over his son's bald head.

"What about my birth parents? Why'd they give me away?"

"They didn't, Jack. We took you in after your birth parents died in a house fire when you were two weeks old. They were our next door neighbors when we lived in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. Your mother and I had come home late from dinner and smelled smoke as we got out of the car. We looked around and saw flames starting to come from the house next door. Your mom ran to call the fire department, while I went next door to see if there was anything I could do to help.

"The fire was spreading fast, and the front door was locked so I couldn't get in to help them, but I heard wailing coming from an open window on the front of the house…it was a warm night, and your parents had left the window open next to your crib. I got in the window and rescued you, but by that time the whole house was in flames and there was nothing more I could do.

"We stood outside and watched the house burn. The firefighters arrived a few minutes later, but by that time it was too late for your parents. The house went up so fast that there was nothing anyone could do."

"Social services came and got you the next morning," Lorraine interjected, "but your father and I asked to be able to keep you if your surviving family couldn't take you in. As it turned out, your aunts and uncles were either too young to take you or not ready for the responsibility of a baby, and your maternal grandmother was struggling to provide for the children she had. There was no way she could take another. Your paternal grandparents hadn't spoken to your father in years, and they didn't want you, either—I don't why, but I was grateful when we were allowed to take you home three days later. The rest of your family didn't want to lose you, but none of them could take care of you, so your grandmother agreed that we could adopt you. It was an open adoption, and a friendly one, so when we needed to know about your family's medical history, we contacted her."

Jack was still staring at them in shock, not quite able to believe that he had been adopted. "How come you didn't just have kids of your own?"

"We tried, but it never happened. We had been discussing adoption when the fire happened. You kind of fell into our laps like a wonderful, unexpected gift."

"Was that why you got mad at each other when you found out I had leukemia? Was it because you adopted me and then there was something wrong with me?"

"Oh, Jack, no." Lorraine stroked his forehead. "No, sweetie, we weren't mad at you. We were upset that you were sick, yes, but we got upset with each other because we didn't know what to do or why it had happened. We were upset because we were afraid we might lose you. It had nothing to do with there being something wrong with you."

"We love you, Jack," James told him, "and we would never get angry because you're sick. It isn't your fault, and we don't think you're defective in any way. We chose to adopt you, and we were never so happy as when you became legally ours."

"But your birth family would like to see you…they haven't seen you since we moved to California when you were a baby. Once you're better, we'll take a trip to see them."

"Why is my name different? I thought my name was Jack David Dawson."

"We changed your name when we adopted you…we wanted to give you a name that would reflect both your new family and your old one…so we got Jack from your old last name, David from your first name, and Dawson from us."

Jack was still looking at them uncertainly. Lorraine got up and gave him a hug, James following.

"I know this is a lot to take in," she told Jack, "but we do love you very much, and nothing's going to change that."

"You're our son," James added, "and you have been since I took you from that burning house. We weren't settling for second best…I think we would have taken you even if we'd been able to have children of our own. You worked your way into our hearts very quickly."

"Now," Lorraine said, changing the subject, "we have a pile of presents here for you. Would you like to open them?"

Jack looked again at the birth certificate in his hand and at the empty bed beside him, then nodded. "Okay."

James pulled a knit cap from his pocket. "I didn't have a chance to wrap this, but I thought you'd like it. You keep complaining that your head gets cold."

Jack took the cap, pulling it onto his hairless head and smiling for the first time that day. "Thanks, Dad. It helps a lot."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

Lorraine handed him the first package. "Merry Christmas, Jack."

"Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad."

_May 20, 1998_

Jack was sitting up in bed, drawing in his sketchpad. He'd been feeling better lately, and was hoping that he'd be in remission soon and get to leave.

Today was also his twelfth birthday, and his parents had promised to bring a cake to share with the other kids in the cancer ward.

He had been disappointed when his parents had told him that he would have to repeat the sixth grade—he'd been too sick to keep up with his studies at the hospital—but at least they were pretty sure he'd have a chance to repeat it. His doctor had told him that his blood tests were looking better and better.

He looked up as the doctor walked in, setting his sketchpad aside. "How am I doing now?" he asked, looking at her hopefully.

She smiled. "This is the news you've been waiting for, Jack…you've finally achieved remission."

"I have?" His face lit in a wide grin. "Yes!" He jumped up, pushing the covers aside. "Does this mean I get to go home?"

"Yes, it does. I've already called your parents, and they'll be here to get you this afternoon."

"All right!" He got out of bed quickly, dancing around. "I'm going home! I'm going home!"

"Lucky you," one of the other boys in the room called.

"Yeah. Now can you shut up? I'm trying to sleep," another one complained.

Jack was too happy to care. "This is the best birthday present ever!"

"Today's your birthday?" the doctor asked. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks. Yeah, I'm going home! I'm going home!"

"Settle down, Jack. Your parents won't be here for several hours yet, and you do know that you'll have to keep taking medicine and come in for check-ups and maintenance chemotherapy, don't you?"

"Yeah, but…I'm in remission! Finally!"

"Sit down, Jack. You're disturbing the others. They're not better yet."

"I know." Jack sat back down on his bed.

"There are some things you need to know."

"Like what?"

"You aren't cured yet. That's why you have to keep taking medicine and coming in for additional chemotherapy and check-ups. If the leukemia comes back, you'll have to come back here for more treatment. You'll probably keep taking medicine for the next three years, but if the leukemia doesn't come back after five years, you'll be considered cured. So aim for your seventeenth birthday…if the leukemia hasn't come back by then, you'll be cured."

"So I could get sick again?"

"Yes, but let's hope you don't. If you do, we'll try to catch it right away and get you back into remission."

"I heard that it's harder to get into remission the second time."

"Yes, it can be…but there are other treatments we can try if you need them. Let's hope you don't."

Jack thought for a minute. "Is my hair going to grow back now?"

"It should, yes. It might be slow, but it should grow back now that you're taking less medicine."

"Will I still throw up a lot?"

"Not as much, and maybe not at all. It depends on how well your body handles the medicine you're given. You'll be going to see a pediatric oncologist, so you'll need to tell them if the medicine makes you sick."

"Okay. You know what? I'll miss you…but I won't miss chemo and radiation and blood tests and spinal taps and all that."

She laughed. "You're a good kid, Jack. I hope I don't see you back here, though…at least not for cancer treatment."

"Yeah. Me, too."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

_July, 2001_

Jack sat with his back against the trunk of an old tree, his sketchpad on the ground beside him. He blinked sleepily in the North Carolina heat, then stretched, wincing a little at the aching in his joints.

This was the fourth summer he'd gone to camp at Jenny House, a camp for sick kids. He had first heard about it when he'd gone in for his first check-up after getting out of the hospital in 1998 and had seen a brochure for it in the doctor's office. Jack had never been to a real camp before—he'd gone on a few camping trips with his parents and with Cub Scouts when he was younger, but never to a real camp far from home—and the idea of going to a camp for sick kids had caught his interest.

He had begged his parents to let him go after looking it up on the Internet and finding that there were still openings for campers for that summer. James and Lorraine had been reluctant to let him go at first after what he had been through in the past year, but after they had confirmed that the camp had several medical professionals on staff, they had allowed him to go, though not without reservations. Jack had never been so far from home without them before, and he had been dangerously ill with the leukemia for months.

Everything had been fine, though. He had been able to take the medication he needed without any problems, and after the first year, his parents had allowed him to fly to North Carolina alone, though he knew they still worried about him.

It had been a change of pace for Jack to be around kids who knew what it was like to be really sick. Not all of them had cancer—there had been quite a number who suffered from other problems—but they all knew what it was like to live with a serious illness, to know that being young didn't protect them from illness, pain, or death—unlike many of the kids his age, who had little or no concept of what it meant to be really sick, and who had singled him out because of his illness.

After Jack had gotten out of the hospital, he had tried going to school for the last few weeks of the year, but the other kids had stared at his bald head and skinny body and had whispered and laughed behind his back. He'd hated walking into a room and having the other kids stop talking and turn away from him. Some kids who had been his friends before didn't know what to say to him and had avoided him, and in spite of what the teacher had told them about cancer not being contagious, some kids avoided him for fear of getting sick themselves.

Jack had hated the whispers and laughter almost as much as he'd hated the rude remarks that some kids made to his face. Other kids had asked questions, many of which he hadn't known how to answer or didn't want to answer. Not all of those asking questions had done so to be mean or to pick on him—some were genuinely interested or concerned about him—but he'd hated it. After all the months of treatment, he'd just wanted to get back to living a normal life, but the taunts from the other kids and the constant stares and questions had made that impossible.

He'd stomped in the door after school one day, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, trying not to cry after all the unkind remarks from the other kids, and when James had come home an hour later, Jack had exploded, flatly refusing to return to school and then shutting himself in his room. It wasn't until later, after his mother had come home from work, that Jack had allowed his parents to come into his room and told them what was going on at school. He'd tried to hide how miserable he was, but the taunts and laughter, combined with the fact that he felt stupid because he hadn't been able to keep up with the rest of the class, had finally gotten to be too much for him, and he had refused to return to school ever again.

His parents had talked to him, offering to call the school and see if someone could talk to the kids who'd been picking on him, but Jack had refused, knowing that that would just make them pick on him more. Finally, they had agreed that he could skip the last week of school—they knew he wasn't going to pass the sixth grade anyway—and had put in a request to have him enrolled at a different elementary school the following year, where fewer kids would know what he had been through.

Jack had repeated sixth grade the following year at Perris Elementary, half a mile geographically and a world away socially from Nan Sanders. In spite of still needing medication and maintenance chemotherapy, he had done well that year, finishing near the top of his class, and when he'd entered Pinacate Middle School in the fall of 1999, the kids who had known him during his first year in sixth grade were scattered around the larger school, and some had moved away. Though some had still made remarks or avoided him, he was in different classes from most of them, and he had learned to ignore them, making it far less fun for them to tease him.

This coming year, he would be a freshman at Perris High School. He was already fifteen, older than most freshmen, but not the only one who'd been held back in school. He'd made some friends who would be going to the same school, and he was looking forward to starting high school.

To make things even better, he'd finished with his medication and maintenance chemotherapy two months ago, and now only had to go in for tests every so often to make sure he was still in remission. He'd been in remission for over three years, and things were looking good.

At least, he hoped things were looking good. He'd been more tired lately, with sore joints and unexplained bruises, but when his parents had questioned whether or not he was well enough to go to camp, he'd insisted that he was fine. It was perfectly normal for teenagers to sleep the day away when they could get away with it, wasn't it? And as for the sore joints and bruises, he'd discovered the joys of wandering the hills and climbing rocks—not that he'd shared his penchant for rock-climbing with his parents—and a few pulled muscles and bruises from slipping on steep rocks and trails were to be expected.

He kept telling himself that, even when he had arrived at camp and still didn't have the energy to do all the things he'd enjoyed the past few years. His joints continued to ache, and a few new bruises had popped up, but he continued to tell himself that everything was normal. After all, wouldn't the doctor have told him if his last tests had been abnormal? He knew that the type of leukemia he'd had could come back quickly, but he didn't want to believe it could happen to him, even though he knew other people it had happened to.

"Hey, Jack! Come on!" His counselor, Andy, waved to him, gesturing for him to join to the others.

Jack got up slowly and reluctantly, rubbing his aching left elbow, which he'd made worse by smacking it into a doorframe that morning. He didn't particularly want to move—he would much rather have sat under the tree for a couple of hours, or better yet, taken a nap—but Andy wanted him to join the others at the lake.

Jack picked up his sketchpad and walked slowly towards the others. Usually, he loved swimming, but today he wasn't looking forward to stripping down to his swim trunks and letting everyone see the colorful bruises on his legs and torso. Not many people would make fun of him—a lot of them had scars, discolorations, or missing limbs that made them stand out—but he didn't want anyone asking him if he felt okay. He wasn't feeling entirely right, and for that reason, he didn't want any questions. If no one asked questions, he wouldn't have to admit to anything.

Unfortunately, since he'd already been acting tired for several days, questions were inevitable. Andy, a fellow leukemia survivor, caught sight of his bruises as he was trying to hurry into the water.

"Jack, are you okay?"

Jack waded out until the water came up to his waist, then crouched down so that only his head was showing before answering. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because you've got an awful lot of bruises—"

"I said I was fine!" Jack snapped, then immediately felt contrite. "Sorry. Didn't mean to yell. I just stayed up too late last night and now I'm kind of tired."

"Yeah, it would be nice if you guys would at least try to fall asleep before one in the morning, especially seeing how early we have to get up. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Not as young as you used to be? You're only two years older than me!" Jack retorted, glad to have gotten him off the subject of his health.

"Yeah, but I'm responsible for you guys. Catch!" He threw a beach ball at Jack, who ducked.

"Missed me!" He laughed, swimming farther out.

Andy laughed, too, but then turned serious again. "Jack, if you're not feeling well, or if you have symptoms you think might mean something, you can always see the doctor here. You know that, right? Nobody's going to yell at you."

"I know, I know. And if I feel sick or something doesn't seem right, I'll go to the doctor. But right now, I feel fine. I just want to swim for a while."

Andy sighed, looking at him skeptically. "Okay, Jack. But if you have any doubts at all…"

"I'm fine. My last tests were normal, and I have my regular appointment a couple of days after I get home. I don't even have to take medication anymore. C'mon, leave me alone already."

Jack ducked under the water, swimming farther out, before Andy could reply. He didn't want to be questioned about his health. He was fine, and he planned on staying that way.

* * *

To the surprise of everyone but Jack, he fell asleep early that night. It was barely ten o'clock when he dozed off, more exhausted than he cared to admit. In spite of the talking, laughing, and occasional obscene joke, he lay back and closed his eyes, just for a minute, he thought, and was quickly sound asleep.

He didn't awaken until three AM, when one of the other campers shook him awake, reminding him of the prank they'd been plotting since the beginning of camp.

Jack opened his eyes blearily and squinted at him in the dark cabin. "What?"

"C'mon! Andy's asleep," he whispered.

"So?"

"So, now we can go 'decorate' the mess hall like we've been planning? Remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Jack had been plotting with the rest of the cabin for several days, but right now he didn't feel like getting up.

"Well, come on! We gotta hurry! Everything's hidden under Deshon's bunk." He pulled on Jack's arm, getting a groan of pain in reply. "Quiet! We can't let anybody hear—"

"What's going on?" There were several groans and mumbles as Andy's voice sounded in the quiet cabin.

"Uh…nothing. Nothing."

Andy flipped on the light, causing most of the campers to duck and shade their eyes. He looked at them critically, already suspecting what they were up to—he'd pulled a few pranks himself before he became a counselor.

"Deshon, what are you trying to hide under your bed? And Pete, why are you trying to pull Jack out of his bed?"

"Uh…n-nothing," Deshon stammered, trying to hide the stash of toilet paper, silly string, and shaving cream under his bed. He looked at the others, who were trying to look innocent, except for Pete, who was trying to push Jack back into his bunk.

Jack hissed in pain when Pete tried to push him back into his bunk, which he had half slid out of when Pete had pulled on his arm. "Let go of me!" He pulled himself back into bed and sat up, rubbing his sore elbow. "Damn."

Pete looked at Andy, trying to think of an explanation that wouldn't reveal the prank they'd had planned. "Uh…well…Jack was snoring real loud, and I was trying to wake him up…"

"I don't snore!"

Pete sent Jack a look that clearly said shut up. "And…uh…I think he's got a fever…"

Jack gave Pete a nasty look. "I'm fine."

"You do look glassy-eyed." Andy put a hand on his forehead, ignoring Jack's attempt to back away. "Let me get the thermometer. I think you do have a fever."

"I'm fine. It's just hot in here."

"It's not that hot." Andy got the thermometer from the first aid kit, sterilized it, and handed it to Jack. "Under your tongue."

"I don't need it."

"Jack, just do what he says," Deshon said from the next bunk. Jack's stubbornness about medical care was well-known to those who'd known him for a few years.

Jack stared at the thermometer for a moment more, then finally sighed and put it under his tongue. He hated being fussed over like this.

When the thermometer beeped a moment later, he took it out of his mouth and handed it to Andy. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Andy looked at the thermometer. "One-oh-three point two. I'd say that's something to worry about."

"It's not that high. I've just got too many blankets on."

Andy looked doubtfully at the single sheet—the rest of the bedding was at the end of the bunk. "I don't think so, Jack. Get up and get dressed. I'll call the nurse and have her meet you at the infirmary."

"But—"

"Now, Jack!"

Jack got out of bed slowly, mumbling swear words under his breath. "I feel fine," he mumbled. "That thermometer's probably defective."

"The nurse can judge that, and the doctor if you need him."

"I'd rather just sleep."

"Jack…" The fifteen-year-old was severely trying his counselor's patience. "Now!"

"All right! I'm coming! You don't need to be that way!" Jack muttered a few more unflattering words under his breath.

"I'm just going to assume that it's the fever and whatever else might be wrong talking, since I know you usually act better than this."

"He's always that way when somebody tries to take care of him," Deshon pointed out. "He don't like being fussed over."

Jack protested a little more, just for effect, but he was tired and was running out of energy to argue. Grouchily, he put his shoes on and followed Andy towards the infirmary, his legs feeling heavy from the fever.

* * *

Dr. Byrd stood beside Jack's bed in the infirmary, listening to his heart and lungs. The nurse had called him in after she'd taken Jack's temperature and gotten a look at the number of bruises marring his limbs and torso. When Jack had reluctantly admitted that his joints—especially his knees and elbows—hurt, too, she had made him lie down to wait for the doctor.

Jack had been too tired to give even a token protest by that time, so he'd done as she'd said and had promptly fallen asleep again. When the doctor had arrived a few minutes later, Jack had been more annoyed about being woken up than about being examined.

Sleepily, he tried to explain what he thought might be causing the symptoms—staying up too late, pulling muscles, running into things. He even suggested that the fever might be caused by the flu, though flu season was several months away and Jack's parents had made sure he got a vaccine every year since he'd developed leukemia.

Dr. Byrd listened, but was fairly certain that none of Jack's symptoms were caused by the things he'd mentioned.

"You can stay here tonight," he told him, "but in the morning we're taking you to the hospital for some tests, just to be safe."

"My last tests were fine."

"Yes, but acute lymphocytic leukemia can make an abrupt return sometimes, and I want to be sure that isn't the problem now."

"I sure hope it's not."

"For your sake, I hope it's not, too."

* * *

"I have to go home?" Jack looked at Dr. Byrd in disbelief. "Why do I have to go home?"

"The test results were positive. Your leukemia has relapsed, and you need to start treatment as soon as possible."

"But it's just a few more days."

"I know, but your doctor in California wants to see you right away and get you back into treatment."

"But my plane ticket isn't valid until the end of camp."

"Your parents are taking care of that, and your dad is flying out here tonight to take you home."

"But after I leave here, we're supposed to go to Wisconsin to visit my relatives. We've been doing that every year since I got into remission."

"It doesn't look like it's going to work out that way this year. I know this isn't what you wanted to happen, but it's important that you start treatment as soon as possible to increase your chances of going into remission again."

Jack's face took on a sullen look. "It's not fair."

"Cancer is never fair, but sometimes you have to take care of it before you worry about anything else." Dr. Byrd patted Jack's shoulder. "Andy is getting your things together so you can leave when your dad gets here."

"I don't want to leave yet."

"I know, but you don't have much of a choice. A relapse needs to be taken seriously. It can be harder to get into remission the second time, so you need to start treatment soon."

Jack sighed. He wanted to argue, to ask if the tests might be wrong, but he was tired, and he knew that no amount of arguing was going to change the diagnosis. The leukemia was back, and he needed to go back to California and get the treatment started again if he was to have a chance to survive.

When Dr. Byrd left, Jack lay back against his pillow, putting an arm over his eyes to hide the sudden rush of tears.

_It isn't fair. It isn't fucking fair. I just got through with the maintenance treatment two months ago, and now the leukemia is back. I have to go through all that again, and I might not even get into remission this time. It's harder to get into remission the second time—I've known some people who died when they got leukemia a second time. Some people like Andy have survived it twice, but he got a bone marrow transplant from his sister. I don't have any sisters or brothers._

_Am I even going to survive? I don't want to die—I'm only fifteen. I haven't even started high school yet. Dammit, I hope I get to go to high school. I hope I don't get held back another year if I do get better._

Jack rolled over and buried his face in his pillow.

_I hate this disease! Why did it have to happen to me? Why not one of those kids who picked on me? Stupid fucking cancer!_

_It just isn't fair._

* * *

Jack sat next to James on the plane, en route from North Carolina to California. Lorraine would be meeting them at Ontario International Airport at six o'clock in the morning.

He had been a bit embarrassed to have his dad picking him up from camp early, but he hadn't said so. It wasn't his dad's fault he'd relapsed, and by the time James had arrived at Jenny House, Jack had been feeling ashamed of the way he'd treated his counselor and his friends and wasn't in the mood to be obnoxious to anybody.

He'd apologized to Andy when he'd brought him his belongings, and had been surprised at how understanding his counselor had been. Andy had been through the same thing—a relapse of leukemia after several years in remission—and he knew how frustrating and upsetting it could be. He also realized that Jack hadn't been feeling well when he'd been so obnoxious, and that a fever could make a person behave differently than they normally would. Jack still felt bad about how rude he'd been to him, but he was glad that Andy was willing to forgive him.

Now, Jack sat next to his dad, his head against the back of the seat and his eyes closed. There was very little turbulence on this flight, for which Jack was grateful. All too soon, he'd be suffering the miseries of chemotherapy again, and he didn't want to experience airsickness now.

"How are you doing, Jack?" James' voice was quiet, as many passengers were sleeping.

"Okay, I guess." Jack was silent for a moment before turning to James. "Dad, why did this have to happen? I've been in remission for over three years, and now…I relapse all of a sudden. It's like the leukemia was just waiting to come back."

"I don't know, Jack. All it takes is one bad cell to start it up again."

"I know, but…dammit! I took my medicine like I was supposed to and got the maintenance chemo and all the tests, and now it decides to come back. How come the tests didn't pick it up last month, before I went to camp? How can it come back so quickly?"

"It may be that it's been coming back for a while, but it wasn't detectable yet. Like your doctor said, those tests aren't foolproof—that's one of the reasons you've had to go in for them every month. If the test misses a relapse at first, it can catch it the second time before you have time to get really sick."

"But I did get sick again. Not really, horribly sick, but still…"

"I don't think you were feeling really well when you left for camp. You did seem tired a lot."

"Yeah, but…I didn't want to think I might be relapsing. I thought of all kinds of things that could make me tired and everything. I didn't want it to be leukemia." He looked down, toying with a string hanging off his shirt. "Dad, what did I do to deserve leukemia?"

James was taken aback at the question. "What did you do to deserve leukemia? Nothing. Nothing, Jack. You know that. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it. It's in your genes. Your birth mother was suffering from leukemia when she died—she'd delayed treatment so she could have you—and your grandfather died of leukemia in 1975, when your mother was only nine. And he probably got it from exposure to radiation from nuclear testing when he was growing up in Utah in the fifties. Your aunts and uncle on your birth mother's side of your family are lucky—they've shown no signs of leukemia, though after they found out about your diagnosis, they've had screenings for it…they know they're at high risk."

Jack looked out the window. "It just seems like maybe there's something I should have done to keep the leukemia away. Maybe if I'd done something different, I never would have gotten it in the first place."

"What could you have done? You were eleven years old when you first got leukemia. You didn't know anything about genetics—and you couldn't have changed your genes if you had. You can't change them now. Who are you going to blame—your mother, who delayed her own treatment because it would have killed or seriously damaged you? Your grandfather, who had no choice about where he grew up? Your great-grandparents, who are now dead and thought that nuclear testing was the best thing the country could do to protect itself? The people who tested the bombs, or the scientists who developed them? The effects of nuclear radiation were poorly understood until some time after World War II, when high rates of birth defects and cancers—including leukemia—showed up among survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan."

"But that didn't stop them from testing more nuclear weapons, and building nuclear power plants, and doing things that can kill a lot of people and even destroy the world. And it's still being done, isn't it, Dad?"

James was silent for a moment before he answered his son. "Yes, Jack, I'm afraid it is still being done—maybe not in this country, but in others. And there are enough weapons to destroy the world several times over, and yes, nuclear power is still being used, even in places where it's utter idiocy to build such dangerous plants, like the California coast."

"I wish there was something I could do to stop it—it wouldn't cure me, but it might help other people not to have to go through this."

"I don't think any one person can stop it. But there are organizations you can join that are fighting against nuclear power and weapons, and there are other things you can do to help the environment, the destruction of which also causes cancer in many people."

"Like what?"

"Like the Sierra Club, for example. Your mother and I have been members for years. And there are others, too—you might want to look into them if you're serious about wanting to work against nuclear power and weapons."

"I'm serious, Dad. About that and all the other stuff. I'm sure as hell serious."

* * *

Lorraine was waiting for them when they got off the plane and went to claim Jack's baggage. She took one look at her son's pale, tired face and the bruises on his arms and legs and rushed to him, hugging him so tightly that Jack was sure he would have a few more bruises.

"Mom!" he gasped as she squeezed him a little too tight. "Not in public!"

"None of your friends are here, Jack. You don't have to be embarrassed about hugging your mom."

Jack groaned. He loved his parents very much, but sometimes they really embarrassed him.

Lorraine finally let go of him, taking his carry-on backpack from him and swinging it onto her own back. "I couldn't believe it when the camp called to say that you'd been diagnosed with leukemia again and were being sent home."

"Me, neither," Jack mumbled, ducking his head as they walked towards the car. "I thought I was done with the Goddamned—"

"Jack! Your language!"

Jack turned red. "Sorry, Mom," he mumbled, remembering that he could get away with cursing in front of his dad and his friends, but not in front of his mother. "Uh…anyway…I hoped I was done with it after three years…except for the tests to make sure it was still gone and everything."

His mother gave him another hug as they reached the car. Jack didn't protest this time. "I know, sweetie. We'd hoped you were cured, too. But now…we'd better get you back into treatment. Hopefully, this time you'll be cured."

"It's harder to get into remission the second time," Jack told her, getting into the back seat of the car and buckling himself in. His eyes drooped sleepily—he hadn't slept for more than a half hour on the plane, and he was starting to feel feverish again.

"We'll make sure that you get the best treatment possible," James said, giving Jack a glance before starting the car. "We've already talked to your oncologist, and he's arranged for you to be admitted to the hospital at Loma Linda University this afternoon. You can rest at home for a few hours, and then we'll take you over there."

"Uh-huh," Jack mumbled, not sure what his dad had said, and too sleepy at the moment to really care.

* * *

The next day, James and Lorraine came to the hospital to visit their son and discuss treatment options with his doctor. Jack was feeling a little better now, and was sitting up in bed, drawing in his sketchpad, when his parents arrived.

"How are you feeling, Jack?" Lorraine pulled up a chair next to his bed.

Jack shrugged. "Okay, I guess. They're giving me medicine, but they haven't given me any IV chemotherapy yet, so I'm not feeling too sick."

"The head pediatric oncologist here should be here soon to discuss treatment options," James told him. "Your mother and I discussed it, and since you're fifteen and this is the second time you've been through this, we want you to have some say in your treatment."

Jack set his sketchpad down. "Really?" He'd just assumed that the doctor would decide what kind of treatment he would get.

"Really." Lorraine looked up as Dr. Patterson, the head of pediatric oncology, came into the room. "Dr. Patterson? I'm Lorraine Dawson, and this is my husband, James. And this is our son, Jack."

"We've met," Dr. Patterson said dryly. "He was in my office this morning, wanting a second opinion. When I gave the opinion that his test results were correct and he does indeed have acute lymphocytic leukemia, he asked where he could get a third opinion."

"Jack!" Lorraine frowned at him.

He avoided her eyes. "Well, what if the test results are wrong?"

"They're not wrong, Jack." James shook his head. "I know you wish otherwise, but four doctors have looked at them and said the same thing. You need to think about getting appropriate treatment instead of grasping at straws in hopes that you haven't relapsed."

Jack mumbled something under his breath.

"And don't swear," Lorraine added. "I know enough Spanish to know what you just said."

Jack didn't answer, but only sat up straighter, looking unhappy. After crossing his arms and eyeing each adult in turn, he asked, "What are you going to do to me this time?"

Lorraine sighed. She knew Jack hated leukemia, cancer treatment, and being fussed over, but his attitude this time was far worse than the last time, and she was tired of it. Before Jack could say anything else, she stood, leaning over his bed and looking him right in the eye.

"Jack, I am only going to say this once, so you'd better listen. I know you hate being sick, but being rude to people isn't going to make things better. I am sick and tired of your attitude, and I want you to shape up right now. Your father and I decided that you're old enough to have some input on your treatment, but I'm beginning to think we were wrong, because you're certainly not displaying much maturity now. I want no more arguing, no more swearing, and if you want to have any say at all in your treatment, you'd better shape up, lose the attitude, and start treating people with respect. Do you understand?"

Jack stared at her in shock. He hadn't expected her to get this angry at him. He glanced at his dad, but immediately knew he would get no help from him.

"Do you understand, Jack?" Lorraine repeated.

"Uh…um…yes." His voice cracked a little.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'll stop arguing and start being nicer to people." He looked down. "Sorry, Mom."

Lorraine sat back down. "Thank you, Jack. I don't like to yell at you, but sometimes, it seems like you don't understand anything else."

"Ahem." Dr. Patterson cleared his throat, looking at Jack, who was staring at his hands, trying to avoid looking anywhere else. "I do have other patients to see this afternoon, so if we could get this discussion started…"

"Of course." Lorraine patted Jack's hand, letting him know she wasn't too angry with him. "Jack, you've been through treatment before, so if you have anything to add to this discussion, go ahead."

Jack looked up briefly and nodded slightly, but didn't say anything.

Dr. Patterson opened Jack's chart. "Jack, judging from your past experience with leukemia, the best treatments are an aggressive regimen of chemotherapy, and radiation treatment, if needed, or a bone marrow transplant. However, since no one has been tested as a potential bone marrow donor for you, and your type of leukemia tends to be aggressive, I would recommend that you continue with the medications you started last night, along with IV chemotherapy and other treatments as indicated."

Jack looked up at him. "How long does it take to find a bone marrow donor?"

"It depends upon whether you have a relative who is a match and is willing and able to donate bone marrow to you. If not, we'll have to look for unrelated donors, and finding one could take months or years, if one exists at all. You have about a one in twenty chance of finding an unrelated matching donor."

"About five percent." Jack nodded. "How do you find out if someone matches?"

"Through tissue typing. The donor needs to be a perfect 'six-of-six' match with you, meaning that all six of the donor's antigens match yours. Your body will reject anything else."

"What are my chances of survival with just the chemo?"

"Statistically, about thirty to forty percent."

"And with a bone marrow transplant?"

"About fifty percent, but bone marrow transplants can be very dangerous. All of your own bone marrow must be destroyed, leaving you at high risk for infection, and then there's always the chance of rejection of the marrow received. And even then, there's still a possibility of relapse."

"Jack," James suggested, "why don't you start with the chemotherapy Dr. Patterson recommended and wait to make any decisions about a bone marrow transplant until we know whether or not a compatible donor can be found?"

Jack thought for a moment, then looked at Lorraine. "What do you think, Mom?" He wanted some say in his treatment, but making decisions like this were harder than he'd thought.

"I think you should have chemotherapy and see how you do, and we'll talk to your relatives and see if they want to be tested as donors. I think they probably will—they like you, and they were disappointed to hear we wouldn't be visiting this summer. Your dad and I will be tested, too, even though we aren't related to you by blood, just in case one of us is a match."

Jack looked back at Dr. Patterson. "Can I do that? Can I start with chemotherapy and then get a bone marrow transplant later if there's a match?"

"Depending upon your response to the initial treatment and your health, if a match is found, yes, it is possible."

Jack looked at each of his parents, sensing that they would support any decision he made.

"That's what I'll do, then. I'll see how I do on the chemotherapy, and if a bone marrow donor can be found, I'll decide about a transplant then."

_August 25, 2001_

"Jack? Jack, wake up."

Jack opened his eyes slowly at the voice and the feeling of someone else's hand on his. He sat up slowly, struggling against a wave of nausea.

"Uh…hi, Mom." He lay back down. "I don't feel so good."

"Do you need a basin?"

"Maybe. They've had me on this IV for two days now. When did you get here?"

"We got back from Wisconsin this morning and got here just a few minutes ago."

Jack struggled to keep his eyes open. He'd had IV chemotherapy that morning and wasn't feeling well at all.

"What did you find out? Is anybody a match?"

Lorraine sat down beside him, squeezing his hand gently. "I'm afraid not, sweetie. The closest was your Aunt April, and she was only a five-to-six match. Your dad and I weren't even half-matches, I'm afraid."

"Not surprised. You're not related to me. Anybody in the National Registry?"

"Not so far."

"Ah…hell." Jack opened his eyes and looked at his mother sheepishly. "Sorry, Mom."

"Don't worry about it, Jack. I said something stronger than that when I found out there wasn't any match."

"Huh. That's almost funny." He tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "I guess I won't be going to high school after all."

"Oh, Jack, of course you will. The district has a tutor they actually send out to sick students, so I'm getting your books tomorrow and the tutor will visit you once a week until you can attend classes at the high school."

"And, Jack," James added, "I'm teaching Freshman English this year, so I'll be teaching the same things you're supposed to be learning in English class in school. So I'll be coming in and teaching you after school when you feel up to it."

"Okay. Thanks, Dad."

"And when you get better, you'll be able to go to regular school like anybody else."

"If I get better. The odds aren't that good, you know."

"Dr. Patterson says your tests are starting to look better. You're not in remission yet, but they are looking better."

"I guess."

"Come on, Jack. I know you don't feel well right now, but try to think positively. You know it's been shown to help."

"I'd feel more positive if I didn't feel so sick."

"Well, maybe you'll feel better in a few hours, then."

"Maybe. I just wanna sleep now." He closed his eyes, then opened them and looked at his parents for a moment. "Can you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Sure, Jack. Of course we can." Lorraine ran a hand over his head gently, noting that although his hair had thinned a little, he wasn't going bald like he had the last time. "Rest, Jack. We'll stay here for a little while, and then we'll be back tomorrow to visit again."

_October 2001_

"I'm not hungry." Jack pushed his dinner tray away, earning a look of annoyance from the nurse who had just given it to him.

"You need to eat. And most kids on the medical regimen you have this week can't seem to eat enough. As I recall, the last time you were taking these meds, you would have been happy to eat three or four of these dinners—you kept pestering me for more food."

"I'm not hungry now. My stomach hurts," Jack complained, holding a spot just under his left ribs.

"That's not your stomach."

"Well, something hurts. My back hurts, too, and so does my shoulder." He looked up, suddenly alarmed. "You don't think I'm having a heart attack, do you?"

"I doubt it very much, but I'll call the doctor for you just in case."

An intern working in pediatric oncology arrived a couple of minutes later. Jack looked up at her, a panicked expression on his face. "I think I'm having a heart attack!"

The intern listened to his heartbeat for a moment. "No, you're not having a heart attack. Your heart rate is well within the range of normal, if a little fast right now, probably because you've been scaring yourself."

"Then what's wrong with me?"

"Let's examine you and find out."

When she pressed gently on the spot under Jack's ribs that he had indicated was painful, he winced and tried to pull away.

"Hold still."

"That's what hurts!"

"I know, but please try to hold still. I think I may have found the problem."

"What is it? Do I have a tumor or something?" Jack asked, knowing that the treatment for leukemia could sometimes cause secondary cancers.

"I don't know about a tumor, but your spleen is definitely enlarged. That's not at all uncommon in leukemia." She got him to sit up, examining the place where he had said his back was hurting. "How long have you been in pain?"

"Uh…a couple of days, I guess, maybe three…but it wasn't really bad, just kind of annoying. It felt weird before that…like that area was full of something…and I wasn't real hungry then, either, but I was taking medicine that made me nauseous, so I didn't think anything of it."

"How long has your shoulder been hurting?"

"Just a few hours, really. It didn't start hurting until after my stomach—or whatever—and my back were already hurting."

She nodded. "I wish you'd said something sooner. Your enlarged spleen may be why you've been anemic in your recent blood tests, even after several blood transfusions."

"I didn't know. It didn't hurt that much, so I just ignored it. I mean, I have cancer, so things hurt all the time, and I've just kind of learned to live with it if it's not too bad."

"Well, I'm sending you to get an x-ray, because your spleen is definitely enlarged, and the fact that you have pain in your shoulder may indicate that parts of your spleen haven't been getting enough blood and are starting to die."

A few minutes later, Jack was in a wheelchair and was being taken to radiology. It was starting to hurt more, so he didn't make a fuss about the cold metal x-ray table or about the nurse helping him to move into the right positions for the x-rays.

A couple of hours later, the intern examined the x-rays and shook her head, turning to Jack, who was sitting in his wheelchair looking at the pictures and not quite understanding what they meant.

"Your spleen is very enlarged," she told him, "and parts of it are definitely necrotic."

"Definitely what?"

"Dead or dying, causing the pain in your shoulder and causing complications if it isn't treated soon."

"Do you think it's because of my leukemia?"

"Probably. Leukemia cells can build up in the spleen. You've also had severe anemia lately."

"So what are you going to do? Give me radiation therapy to get rid of the cancer cells?"

"Not in this case. As severe as your anemia has been, and with parts of your spleen dead or dying, it needs to be removed."

"You mean like surgery?"

"Yes…it's called a splenectomy."

Jack frowned, thinking. "How dangerous is it?"

"All surgeries carry some risk, but in this case I think it would be riskier not to have it."

"When is it going to be done?"

"Tomorrow. Your spleen isn't in danger of rupturing, so it doesn't need to be done immediately, but it does need to be done soon, before infection can set in."

"Do my parents know?"

"They've already been called. They said they'd be here before your surgery tomorrow afternoon—it's scheduled for two o'clock—and they'll be here when you wake up."

"Are you going to do the surgery?"

She shook her head. "No. I'll be observing, but Dr. Campbell, who has a lot of experience in this type of thing, is going to be your surgeon. You're in good hands, Jack." She began to take down the x-rays. "You can go back to your room now. The nurse will give you something for the pain and to help you sleep, and remember not to eat or drink anything after two o'clock in the morning."

"I'm not hungry anyway."

"Even so…if someone forgets and gives you food, or one of the other kids wants to share with you, don't eat it, and don't drink anything after two, not even water."

"Why?"

"Because a full stomach can cause complications during surgery, especially if you vomit."

"Oh. Gross."

She closed his chart and handed it to the nurse who had come to take him back to his room. "Chances are you'll be fine, Jack. Dr. Campbell has done this procedure many times before, so he knows what he's doing. Try not to worry."

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled. He'd never needed major surgery before, and while he knew plenty of people who went through surgery and were fine, he'd also known a few for whom things had gone wrong—sometimes horribly wrong.

* * *

Jack's parents arrived at the hospital at 12:30 the following day. Jack was sitting cross-legged on his bed, sketching the boy in the next bed, whose arm had been amputated at the shoulder and who had been trying, without great success, to convince Jack that surgery wasn't going to kill him.

Jack hadn't been convinced, even when the boy had pointed out that he'd probably feel better after his splenectomy—after it healed, anyway—and that it wasn't as bad as what he'd gone through, because Jack wouldn't be missing a limb or even have a really obvious scar—his clothes would cover it most of the time.

James and Lorraine came into the room just as Jack was finishing sketching the boy's empty shoulder. They stood at the end of his bed for a moment, waiting for him to notice them.

Jack finally looked in their direction. "Oh, hi." He looked back at his drawing, trying not to show how worried he was.

Neither of his parents were fooled. "How are you doing, Jack?" James asked, pulling up a chair next to his son's bed.

Jack shrugged. "Okay."

"Looking forward to feeling a little better?"

"I guess."

"Worried about the operation?"

Jack just shrugged, but the boy he was sketching answered the question for him. "Yes."

"Not really." Jack glared at him.

"Yeah, really." The boy looked at Jack's parents. "He was reading about it in a book this morning, and then we were talking about it, and he doesn't believe it'll actually help him."

"Shut up." Jack closed his sketchpad. "Or I won't finish this."

"Whatever."

"Jack, do you want to talk about it?" Lorraine asked, smoothing his thin hair back from his face. He ducked, trying to avoid her hand.

"I'm okay."

"Actually, judging from your behavior, I'd say you're pretty worried."

Jack looked up at her. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we've known you for over fifteen years, and when something big is coming up and it worries you, especially when you don't want to admit it, you act really nonchalant."

"I'm okay. Really."

"Why don't we go to the visitor area and talk about it?"

"But…"

"Jack…"

Jack frowned, putting on a show of being annoyed. In truth, he was glad that they were there, but he didn't want to show it too much in front of the other kids.

"Okay. I'm coming."

* * *

When they got to the visitor area, Jack sat down in a chair in front of his parents, nervously scrunching his now too big t-shirt in one hand.

"I guessed you'd be kind of worried," James said. "You've never had surgery before. We were worried when the hospital called and told us what was going on, even though we knew it could happen and we'd already given permission for you to have surgery if the need arose."

"I've had surgery before," Jack told him. "Or, at least, I've had needles stuck into my bones and between my vertebrae."

"That's not really major surgery, though," Lorraine responded. "I don't know if it really qualifies as surgery at all, unpleasant though those things are."

"What were you reading?" James wanted to know.

"They have some books that we can read if we want more information about our conditions, or procedures we have to have, or the drugs, or things like that. I found one called the _Merck Manual _and was reading about splenectomies and stuff like that."

"And what did you find out?"

"Well, sometimes it is necessary, and I guess if part of an organ is dead, it's really necessary, but it can cause a person to bleed a lot, and I already bleed a lot at little things, 'cause of the leukemia and 'cause I'm anemic, which the doctor said is partly caused by my spleen being too big. And it could get infected after the surgery, and that could be really bad." He paused. "You know, most kids my age probably don't even know what a spleen is, and here I know what it is, what it does, what kind of diseases can make things go wrong with it, and what can happen when it's taken out."

"Well, you've had experiences that most kids your age can't begin to imagine."

"Yeah. I know." Jack stopped, thinking. "Dad, what if I die?"

"Jack! What a thing to ask!" Lorraine scolded, appalled.

James shook his head. "It's a reasonable question, with what he's going through."

"I don't think—"

"Mom, I'm serious," Jack told her. "I mean, it could happen."

"You're not going to die, Jack." Lorraine gave him a look that was half-exasperated, half-alarmed. "You have a very experienced surgeon."

"Mom, what if I bleed to death or something? Or get an infection afterwards? Or what if I can't get back into remission? It's been three months since I was diagnosed with leukemia again."

"It took you seven months to get into remission the first time. I wouldn't worry yet."

"But you are worried, Mom. What happens if I die? Are you going to donate my organs or something?"

"Jack, you can't be an organ donor." James leaned forward, looking at him. "You have cancer. The only thing your organs could be used for is science."

"So, if I die, you'll just bury me?" He noticed that his mother was staring at him, hands pressed over her mouth and tears in her eyes. "What's wrong, Mom?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Lorraine's tears spilled over. "You're fifteen, Jack! You're not going to die!" She pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes. "Excuse me."

When Lorraine had headed in the direction of the ladies' room, James got up and sat next to his son. "Your mother's pretty upset about this, Jack. She doesn't want to consider the possibility that you might not make it."

"I might not, though. I mean—"

"I know, and so does she. But she doesn't want to discuss it. Most parents don't want to consider the idea of losing a child."

"But, Dad, I'm serious. What happens if I die? I mean, do you think there's…you know…something after this?"

"You mean like heaven?"

"Or hell, or anything like that. I've been through cancer treatment…I'm sure hell can't be any worse."

"What do you think, Jack? Your mom's been taking you to church since you were a baby."

"I don't know, Dad. I've known quite a few people who've died…more than most kids my age…and I just don't know. You hardly ever go to church, so I want to know what you think."

James sat back, thinking about it. The thought had gone through his mind more than once since Jack had first been diagnosed with leukemia, but he still didn't really have an answer.

"I think there probably is, Jack. Heaven, reincarnation…I don't know what, but I think there probably is."

Jack thought about this for a moment. "What do you think Mom would say?"

"I think she'd tell you not to worry about it, that you're only fifteen and you're not going to die anytime soon. Yes, I know you've known kids your age and younger who've died, and so have a I—a few, anyway, over the years that I've been teaching—and your mother has known some kids who died, too. But she doesn't want to think about it happening to you, and she's probably right when she says you'll be fine when you have your splenectomy. That procedure's been done many, many times, and most patients—including leukemia patients—survive it." He put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You'll be fine."

* * *

Jack wasn't fine.

The surgery itself went well, though he needed several units of blood due to his anemia and the difficulty in getting his blood to clot, but one and a half days after the surgery, his temperature spiked to a dangerously high level, and red streaks indicating infection spread out from the surgery site. He was taken to intensive care and given antibiotics to counter the infection, but the next day Dr. Campbell had to operate again to clean out the infected tissue.

James and Lorraine stayed with Jack as long as they could each day, watching him from the window outside his room when they couldn't be with him. They skipped work—grateful for the fact that they were able to keep unused sick leave from year to year, since they were using it now to be with their gravely ill son—and going home only to sleep and change clothes.

Jack himself was aware of little of this. He thrashed about in a feverish daze at times, fighting against the oxygen tube in his throat, until he had to be restrained to prevent him from tearing open his stitches. His fever would drop, only to spike again, and the high doses of antibiotics he received through the IV seemed to have no affect on the raging infection. In spite of all appropriate precautions being taken, he had fallen prey to one of the antibiotic-resistant infections that grew more common each year.

He was aware only of being terribly hot, and then so cold that the world seemed to be made of ice. Strange images flashed through his delirious mind—a room filled with smoke and flames, screams, explosions ending in mushroom-shaped clouds, voices talking so fast that he couldn't make out what they said or so slowly that he thought he would go crazy waiting for the next word. More than once, he felt as though he were drowning, and once, as he fought deliriously against the doctor who was draining the fluid from his lungs, he thought he saw curly red hair surrounding a face that he couldn't quite make out, but which calmed him just the same.

At times, he thought he felt hands holding his, and once he heard someone crying and pleading with him to get well—someone who sounded like his dad, but he slipped away into delirium again before he could be sure.

In spite of all this, Jack clung to life tenaciously, and three days after his second surgery, his body began to win the battle against the infection. His fever spiked one last time, then dropped, his temperature returning to normal late that evening. His parents were still there, in spite of visiting hours being over, and when a nurse went to inform them that he was awake, they rushed to his side.

Jack looked up weakly as they came in—he had won the battle with the infection, but it had left him drained. He tried to speak, but the tube had left his throat too sore, so he smiled weakly as they hurried to his bedside.

"Jack! Thank God! I was so scared." Lorraine took his hands in hers and squeezed them gently, careful not to jar the healing surgery wounds on his abdomen. "We thought we were going to lose you."

"Mom." Jack mouthed the word silently as tears of relief ran down Lorraine's face. He suddenly felt like crying himself, so he turned his gaze to his father.

James was gazing at him with a mixture of relief and astonishment. Jack had been so sick, the infection raging throughout his whole body, that he had feared that his son would not survive. He had watched as the doctors had drained the fluid from Jack's pneumonia-stricken lungs, the boy fighting them the whole time, and wondered if anyone could survive such an illness, an illness that the strongest drugs seemed useless against. But Jack was alive—because something had finally worked, because of Jack's own will to live—he didn't know. His son was alive, and that was all that mattered.

Jack tried to speak again, but it hurt too much. Everything hurt—his throat, his chest, his wrists and ankles where he had fought against the restraints, the healing cuts from the surgeries—and suddenly his eyes overflowed. He pulled a hand away from his mother and wiped his eyes, embarrassed.

"Don't cry, Jack," Lorraine whispered, leaning in and kissing him gently on the forehead. "You beat this thing, and you're going to be okay."

Jack nodded, his eyes moving from one parent to the other. "I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad," he mouthed, wishing he could say the words out loud, but his parents seemed to understand.

"We love you, too, Jack," James told him, tousling his thin hair gently.

Jack smiled a little, exhaustion creeping over him. As his eyes drooped shut, his mother leaned over him, whispering, "Rest now, Jack. We'll stay until you're sleeping, and then we'll be back in the morning to see you."

Jack nodded slightly, already nearly asleep. His parents sat beside him until his breathing grew deep and even, and then Lorraine gently pulled the covers up to his chin and kissed him good night.

_December, 2001_

With the infection that had ravaged his body finally healed, Jack's recovery was rapid, and soon he was undergoing cancer treatment again. His illness had set him back several weeks, but when he was able to endure the chemotherapy and radiation again, his progress was more rapid than before. His spleen had been trapping large numbers of leukemia cells—enough that the cells had begun to form tumors—but with it removed, the treatment was more effective.

Jack had a thick, ropy-looking scar on his abdomen that would always be there—though it would fade a little with time—but aside from that, and a greater vulnerability to infection that mandated that antibiotics be added to his medical regimen, he had no lasting effects from his surgery or his illness.

The scar bothered him at first. He would trace it with his fingers, wondering how what should have been a reasonably simple operation had left such a massive scar, but the infection and the need for a second surgery had made the scarring worse. It didn't really show—unless he went swimming or was going around without a shirt, his clothing would cover it—but it bothered him just the same.

Some of the kids on the pediatric oncology floor had far worse scarring than him. Several were missing limbs, and one boy was missing an eye, part of one cheek, and his lower jaw due to a tumor that had started in his jaw and metastasized. And even with such drastic surgery, Jack knew that the boy was not expected to live to see the new year.

One day in the middle of December, Jack sat in the activity room with his sketchpad, surreptiously sketching a picture of a one-legged girl sitting sullenly in a corner. The girl had been angry and withdrawn since her surgery, and no one seemed to be able to bring her out of her bleak mood.

Now, though, she caught sight of Jack drawing and, trying not to let her interest show, she looked at the sketchpad. When she saw what he was sketching, however, her face darkened angrily.

"Stop it!" she hissed at him.

Jack looked up, startled. "Stop what?"

"Stop drawing me!"

"Sorry," Jack mumbled, none-too-politely.

"Why were you drawing a picture of me? Did you want something to laugh at?"

"No. Why would I laugh at you? I don't even know you!"

"Then why were you drawing me?"

Jack blushed slightly. "Well…uh…actually…um…well…it's because you're pretty."

"What?" She stared at him like he'd grown two heads. "I'm not pretty!"

"Well, actually…uh…yes, you are."

"Liar!"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Jack snipped at her.

"Oh, so you think this is beautiful?" She struggled to her remaining foot, grabbing the empty leg of her pajama bottoms and showing him were the stump of her leg ended.

Jack shrugged. "It's not that bad."

She rolled her eyes. "That's easy for someone with no scars to say."

"I have a scar."

"Oh, yeah? Where? I don't see it."

"You wanna see it?"

"Sure. Prove it!"

Jack yanked up his t-shirt, showing the scar from his splenectomy. "Are you happy now?"

She rolled her eyes again. "Whatever. Nobody can even see that."

"They will if I go swimming!"

"Jack Dawson, put your shirt back down!" The nurse in charge of the activity room had caught sight of the arguing pair.

"I was just showing her my scar."

"She doesn't need to see your scar. Susanna," she said, turning to the girl, "sit down before you fall down."

Susanna gave the nurse a nasty look. "He thinks he's got it so bad," she said sarcastically. "He's got a scar that no one can even see. Just wait 'til he loses a leg!"

Jack rolled his eyes in imitation of her. "That's for bone cancer, not leukemia," he informed her.

"Whatever, Jackass."

"My name is Jack, not Jackass."

"That's enough, both of you! Susanna, apologize to Jack. Jack, leave Susanna alone."

Susanna scowled at him. "Sorry." She crossed her fingers to show she didn't mean it.

"Whatever."

"Jack!" The nurse turned to him angrily.

"I'm going, I'm going." He got up, taking the half-finished drawing with him. After a few steps, he turned around. "And you are pretty," he mumbled.

Susanna gave him the finger. Jack returned the gesture.

The nurse's eyes widened. "That's it! Both of you are to go back to your rooms right now! I don't want to see either of back here before tomorrow."

Susanna looked at Jack angrily. "Fine."

Jack just turned and stomped off without a word.

* * *

Jack was surprised when, later that same day, Susanna wheeled herself into his room and sat glaring at him.

"What do you want?" After the way she'd treated him earlier, he wasn't particularly pleased to see her.

"I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch."

"You sure don't look sorry."

"I don't like being made fun of."

"I wasn't making fun of you."

"So you really think I'm pretty?"

"I said so, didn't I?"

"You think a missing leg and a bald head are pretty?" She pulled off her wig.

Jack glanced at her bald head. "It'll grow back. I went bald the first time, too."

"You've been through this before?"

"Yeah, several years ago."

"When did you get your scar?"

"October. I had a splenectomy, and then a bad infection."

"What did your girlfriend think?"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Lucky you. I used to have a boyfriend."

"What happened?"

"He got scared when I told him I had cancer, and then he saw me after I had my leg amputated and told me that it wasn't going to work out. Later, my best friend told me that he was telling everybody how ugly I was and how weird I looked without my leg."

"That was rude." Jack looked at her cautiously, still not sure why she was there.

"Tell me about it." She put her wig back on. "Anyway, Jack…I wanted to apologize for taking things out on you and getting you kicked out of the activity room. I've been mad at everybody lately, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you, even though I thought you were making fun of me."

"I wasn't."

"I know." She looked at him for a minute. "Uh…do you still have the sketch you were making?"

"Yeah." He'd been too busy sulking to bother with throwing it away.

"Um…you can finish it…if you want to, I mean…I won't mind."

"Thanks," Jack responded dryly.

"Um…if you do finish it, can I have a copy? It looks kind of nice…" She trailed off, looking at him uncertainly.

"Uh…sure."

"So…you're going to finish it, then?"

"I guess."

"I can sit in the same spot tomorrow if you want."

"I've got IV chemo tomorrow."

She made a face. "Poor you."

"I hate IV chemotherapy."

"It's awful, isn't it? I only have to have it once every couple of weeks, but it sucks."

"More like pukes."

"That, too."

Jack looked at her. "Well, maybe the next day, if I feel up to it, I can finish it."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Um…thanks." She started to wheel herself away, then stopped. "You know how you showed me your scar?"

"Yeah?"

"Well…it doesn't really look that bad…I mean, you're a guy, so you don't have to look all perfect and everything…and you can cover it with a shirt…or if it really embarrasses you, you could put makeup over it so it doesn't show as much."

"Makeup?"

"You know, the stuff girls put on their faces."

"I know what makeup is. I just don't wear it."

"Well, there's kinds of foundation or concealer you can get that are waterproof and can be matched to your skin tone…the scar would show less with it…"

"Oh. Well…I guess I can think about it…the scar might fade a little by the time I get out of here."

"Maybe." Susanna turned her wheelchair around. "Um…I guess I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Yeah…I'll finish that sketch for you then."

* * *

Two days later, Jack kept his promise to Susanna and finished the sketch. She sat beside him when it was done, still not quite believing that anyone could think her pretty.

And the girl in the picture was pretty. She'd been wearing her wig, so her baldness didn't show, and the sketch was of her from the waist up, not showing her missing leg at all.

Jack went to find a photocopier for the drawing, then surprised her when he returned and handed her the original.

She looked up at him. "Are you sure you want to give me this, and not the copy?"

"The picture's of you."

"Yeah, but…"

"The copy's fine for me."

"Um…okay. Thanks."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Susanna looking at the drawings in Jack's sketchpad. When she came to the drawings he'd done of some of the other kids in the hospital, she slowed, looking at them thoughtfully.

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever thought about drawing someone showing…um…all of them, with all their scars and…everything?"

He looked at the picture she was looking at. It was the one he'd drawn of the boy who had been in the bed next to him, the one whose arm had been amputated at the shoulder.

"Well, I've drawn pictures of kids who were missing limbs and showed where the limb was missing, yes." He pointed to the boy. "He recovered and went home, by the way."

"Good. But…um…that's not quite what I meant."

"What did you mean?" Jack thought about it a moment. "You don't mean…uh…you know…"

"Naked?"

"Um…yeah."

"That's what I meant."

Jack turned red. "I…um…I'm not really into drawing naked guys…"

Susanna rolled her eyes at him. "Not guys, stupid. Girls."

"Girls?"

"Yes, girls."

"Um…no…I've never drawn a naked girl." He'd thought about it, but had never tried it, partly because the idea embarrassed him and partly because he liked his drawings to look realistic and not like the pornographic pictures some guys drew in their books when they were bored.

"Have you ever seen a naked girl?"

"Well…um…not really." It wasn't strictly true—he'd walked in on his mother getting out of the shower when he was three, but all he remembered was that she'd grabbed a towel to cover herself and escorted him out of the bathroom, shouting for his father to keep an eye on him, so he didn't think that counted.

"Really?"

"Really." Jack looked at her strangely. "Why?"

"Well…um…I was wondering if you could…uh…you know…draw me." She blushed.

Jack turned an even brighter shade of red. "Um…why do you want me to draw you…uh…"

"Um…ah…I don't know…it seemed like a good idea when I thought of it."

"But why?"

"Well…I don't know…kind of to prove I'm not that ugly."

"You're not ugly."

"So you say, but…"

"Besides, where would I be able to sketch you without…uh…any clothes on? We'd both get in trouble."

"Um…nobody uses the physical therapy room on Sundays."

"Is it locked?"

"Yes, but you can get in through the bathroom."

"I don't know…"

"Just this once? I mean, you'll never know if you're any good at it unless you try."

Jack thought about it. He was uncomfortable with the idea, but intrigued at the same time. He wasn't interested in Susanna as a girlfriend, so maybe it wouldn't be too awkward.

He looked at her, making up his mind. "I guess I can try drawing you…uh…without clothes. But if we get caught, it was your idea."

* * *

On Sunday, Jack and Susanna sneaked off to the physical therapy room, Susanna trying her crutches outside of physical therapy for the first time. The room was at half-lights, but with sunshine coming in the windows high on the walls, there was plenty of light for Jack to draw by.

Jack was still feeling awkward about drawing someone naked, and Susanna was beginning to feel nervous about the whole idea, too, but neither would admit it. While Jack found a place to sit and sharpened his pencil, Susanna undressed in the bathroom and came out wearing her tattered robe.

Jack stared at her for a moment, clutching his pencil so hard it almost broke. Susanna leaned on her crutches nervously, overbalancing and almost falling over.

"Um…where should I pose?" she asked, looking around. There were several pieces of equipment, some chairs, and a barre running half the length of one wall. She knew there were others rooms off of this one, but they were securely locked. "I…should I sit, or should I pose holding onto my crutches, or…I need something to hold me up if I'm not sitting." She blushed, hoping that he wouldn't ask her to lay down or something. Nothing was going to happen, she was sure, but the idea of laying down stark naked in front of a guy was something she didn't want to think about.

Jack looked around, his eyes focusing on the barre. "How about over there?" He pointed.

Susanna nodded, moving in the direction of the barre. "Should I keep balancing on my crutches, or should I hold onto the barre? I've held onto it at physical therapy," she added, "and I haven't fallen yet."

"Uh…yeah. Hold onto the bed…uh…I mean…the barre," Jack told her as she awkwardly dropped her robe to the floor and leaned her crutches against the wall. He turned bright red at his slip of the tongue.

Susanna turned red, too, giving him a nervous look. Then she started giggling, almost losing her grip on the barre.

"If my friends could see me now," she said, more giggles escaping, "they would just die. I bet some of them would be jealous. My shithead ex-boyfriend would be…he's never gonna see this!"

She gestured to her skinny body and the stump of her leg. Jack, picturing the expression on the face of Susanna's ex-boyfriend, starting laughing, too, breaking the tension.

Susanna finally stopped giggling. "Okay…um…does this look okay?" She held onto the barre with both hands, facing him.

Jack stared at her for a moment. "Um…yeah…that looks fine." He opened the sketchpad to a fresh sheet of paper and began sketching her.

No one interrupted them, though Susanna had to take breaks twice to rest her tired leg. She sat beside Jack both times, looking at his progress on the drawing and wondering shyly if she really looked as good as the picture seemed to show, or if he was just using his imagination. She didn't quite have the courage to ask.

When Jack finally finished the drawing, she sat beside him as he signed his initials to it.

"Add the date and my name, too, so you don't forget who the picture's of."

"I thought you wanted the drawing."

"I do, or maybe a copy, but you have to remember your first nude drawing. I mean, I went to the Getty Center once and there were nude paintings there, so don't all the great artists do nudes?"

"Um…maybe…I don't know…I guess it depends on your definition of great."

"You'll be a great artist someday," she told him confidently. "I mean, you made me look good."

"You're not—"

"I know. I'm not ugly, but that picture looks better than me in real life. Come on, put the date and my name…I want to remember it, too."

"I don't think I'm gonna forget this," Jack mumbled as he scrawled the date and Susanna's first name at the bottom of the page. "Uh…what's your last name?"

"Aguirre. Susanna Aguirre." She blushed at the thought that she'd gotten a guy who didn't even know her last name to draw her naked. "Uh…there's a photocopier over there. It's not too noisy."

"Okay." Jack went to copy the sketch, then handed the original to Susanna. "Um…I think we should keep these things hidden…so we don't get into trouble."

"Yeah…probably." Susanna looked down, carefully holding the drawing between two fingers. "Um…Jack…thank you. I feel…uh…not so ugly now. I mean…well…I don't feel as weird…about this…" She gestured to her leg. "…and about being skinny and bald. Uh…well…thanks."

"You're welcome. Uh…thanks for being my first nude subject."

Susanna grinned. "I guess girls aren't quite as scary as they used to be, are they?"

Jack laughed. "Actually…no…girls aren't quite as mysterious as they used to be."

"Wait until you have a girlfriend. My dad's been married three times, and he says he still doesn't understand women."

"I guess."

They laughed conspiratorially, Susanna following Jack out of the physical therapy room.

_January 5, 2002_

"Good morning, Jack." Dr. Patterson walked into the room and up to Jack's bedside. "I have some good news for you."

Jack looked at him hopefully. "I'm in remission?"

"Not quite, but your test results are very good."

"What's the good news, then?"

"Besides the fact that your test results show that your white blood cell count is down? You're not in remission yet, but your leukemia is sufficiently under control that your treatment can be continued on an outpatient basis."

"Really? I can go home?"

"Yes, and if you can handle it, you'll be able to go to school."

"Yeah? I can finally go to high school?"

"You can finally go to high school."

"What did my parents say?"

"I talked to your mother on the phone this morning. She was very glad that you'll be coming home."

"I'm glad, too. No offense, but I want to do normal stuff again."

"None taken. You'll go home, and we'll get someone in here who's really sick."

"What about my medicine and my chemo and radiation and tests?"

"You'll come here for your IV chemotherapy, your radiation therapy, and the tests to see how you're doing. If you continue to do this well, your treatment will be continued on an outpatient basis. If you get worse, though, or if you can't handle your medicine at home, we'll re-admit you."

"And what about school?"

"You'll be able to go to school just like you normally would as long as you feel up to it. Your parents have told me that you managed to pass everything last semester, so you should be caught up already."

"All right! I gotta tell Susanna about this!" Jack and Susanna had become good friends since he had drawn her in the physical therapy room; he had made several more sketches of her since then, both clothed and unclothed. There was no romantic attraction between them, though—they regarded each other more as brother and sister than anything else. Thus far, no one had caught on to the nude drawing sessions—as far as they could tell, anyway.

Dr. Patterson laughed. "Go ahead, Jack…it'll probably cheer her up to hear that one of you is getting out of here."

Jack slid out of bed, a grin lighting his face. "I get to go home, I get to go to school like other kids…I'm finally getting back to normal!"

"Just remember that you're not in remission yet," Dr. Patterson cautioned.

"I know, but…at least this is more like normal." He smiled again, unable to repress his happiness.

Dr. Patterson chuckled. "Good luck, Jack."

_May 31, 2002_

Jack reached over from where he was sitting at his desk to answer the phone as it rang.

"Hello?"

"May I speak to James or Lorraine Dawson, please?"

"They're not here right now. Can I take a message?"

"Is this Jack?"

"Yeah."

"Jack, this is Dr. Patterson. I have your latest test results."

Jack's heart skipped a beat, as it always did when he got his test results. What if things had gotten worse? What if the medicine had stopped working?

"What did they say? Is it something bad?" Dr. Patterson himself had never called before.

"No. On the contrary, it's good news. You've achieved remission again."

"I have? The leukemia is gone?"

"Yes, but you'll still have to come in for maintenance chemotherapy and continue taking medicine—"

"I don't care. I was afraid I'd never get back into remission!"

"Well, you made it. Congratulations, Jack."

"Can I tell my parents, or do I have to wait for you to tell them?"

"You can tell them, but they need to call your me and your pediatric oncologist to set up your maintenance schedule. If they don't call by tomorrow, I'll be calling back."

"They'll call you. They want me to stay well."

"Okay. Do you have my office number, Jack?"

"Yeah, and so do they."

"All right, then, Jack. Have them call me, and we'll set up your first maintenance appointment."

"I'll do that."

After he'd hung up the phone, Jack jumped up and danced around, making a V for Victory sign. He'd done it. In spite of the odds, he'd beaten leukemia twice, and he was sure that this time it wouldn't come back.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Jack was much calmer after telling Rose about his two previous bouts with leukemia. He leaned wearily against the back of the couch now, Rose's arms around him.

"My God, Jack. I never realized how much you'd been through."

"I don't usually want to talk about it much. It wasn't much fun."

"I'll say, though I guess parts of it weren't so bad. Do you ever talk to Susanna anymore?"

"We e-mail each other sometimes. She's a year older than me, so she graduated from high school last year—the cancer held her back, too—and now she's at NYU, and doing pretty well from what she says." He laughed slightly. "She's studying art."

Rose laughed, too. "I guess your sketching got her started. You've got more influence than you know, Jack."

They were interrupted when the front door opened and James came in, several bags of groceries in his hands. He frowned when he saw Jack and Rose huddled together on the couch, Jack looking exhausted. "Jack? Rose? Did the doctor call?"

Jack got up slowly and headed for the counter separating the kitchen and the living room. Rose followed, a comforting hand on his back.

"Yeah, Dad, he called." He slumped against the counter, a look of misery crossing his face. "I've relapsed again."

"Jack…" James set the bags of groceries of the table and went over to the counter.

"Dr. Stellar wants you to make an appointment with him as soon as possible," Rose told Jack, putting her arms around him.

"Does your mother know?" James asked, putting a hand on his son's shoulder.

Jack nodded. "I called her—she was pretty upset at the news, but she had six people waiting to see her, so she said she'd be home as soon as she could."

"Okay." James looked at the clock. "While you're waiting, Jack, why don't you call Dr. Stellar and make an appointment? The sooner you start treatment again, the better your chances of another remission are."

"Sure, Dad." Jack pushed himself away from the counter and went to get the phone, his mind going over the grim statistics for someone in his position. The odds of getting better weren't good, but he reminded himself that some people did beat a second relapse of leukemia, and he'd managed to remain healthy for more than two years after his last bout with the disease, even when he hadn't been seeing a doctor.

Rose and James stood across the narrow counter from each other, both trying not to listen in as Jack spoke to Dr. Stellar. Finally, Rose whispered to James, "Do you think he'll get better this time?"

"I don't know, Rose. If anyone can beat this three times, Jack can. He's got a strong will to live, and even though the statistics don't look so good, he's a fighter. If he can get better, he will."

Rose nodded, remembering Jack's story of how he had survived the antibiotic-resistant infection after his splenectomy, but then she remembered him standing in the kitchen, reaching towards the rack of knives, and she wasn't so sure. She didn't tell James about that, though. Jack had, after all, changed his mind.

Lorraine came in just as Jack was getting off the phone. She dropped her purse and the remaining bags of groceries from James' car on the table and rushed to her son.

"Oh, Jack!" She hugged him tightly. "I couldn't believe it when you called and told me the leukemia was back. I wanted to rush home, but those people had been waiting for more than two hours, and some of them had long walks home. I couldn't just tell them to come back tomorrow."

"It's okay, Mom," Jack assured her, hugging her back. "It's rude to make people wait a long time and then tell them they have to come back another day. I'm glad you helped them first." He looked up as Rose came towards him. "Rose stayed with me, anyway."

"Thank you, Rose." Lorraine looked at her gratefully, aware of how Jack could get when he was given a diagnosis that wasn't good.

"I didn't mind. We had a good talk—he told me about when he had leukemia before." She looked up at Jack. "Were you able to get an appointment with Dr. Stellar?"

Jack nodded, going to sit down on the couch again. "Yeah. I have an appointment with him at nine o'clock tomorrow. He said he's going to try to arrange for me to be admitted to the hospital at Loma Linda University as soon as possible—in the regular oncology ward this time, instead of pediatric." He put an arm around Rose as she sat down beside him.

James and Lorraine sat in the easy chairs facing the couch. "Did you ever find out why you weren't referred to an adult oncologist when you turned eighteen?" Lorraine asked.

Jack nodded. "Yeah…yeah, I did. I called on Monday, and they said they did refer me, but I was supposed to call and make an appointment when I got the referral letter in the mail. I never got the letter, though, and when I asked why, someone looked through the mailroom and discovered it with the mail that had been returned. They called back yesterday and said that it had been returned to them with a message scrawled on it that no Jack Dawson lived in the apartment complex."

"Apartment complex?" James frowned.

"Yeah…apparently the post office delivered it to the apartments across the street from the high school, and the manager there sent it back to the Riverside Medical Clinic. They read off the address they'd sent it to, and it was this one, but the post office messed up."

Lorraine sighed, putting her head in her hands. "Jack, I wish you'd checked with the clinic when no letter arrived."

Jack tensed. "I didn't know, Mom, okay? I thought the fact that I never heard from them meant that I was better. I didn't know they were supposed to send me a letter."

"Jack, you know that two years isn't enough to be considered cured."

"I wanted to believe I was cured, okay? It was stupid, but that's what I thought."

"Let's not argue about this," James suggested, glancing at Rose, who looked uncomfortable with the tension in the room. "What we need to do is get you the best treatment possible, as soon as we can."

Jack sighed, leaning against the back of the couch. "I know. And I'm going to see Dr. Stellar tomorrow."

"I'll give you a ride if you need one, Jack," James told him.

Jack nodded. "Thanks, Dad. I'll see if I feel up to driving tomorrow…can you get a sub on such short notice?"

"Other teachers can cover for me, if necessary…I don't miss work often, so they shouldn't be too mad."

"Jack," Rose spoke up, "I'm going to stick with you all through this. I'm not going to be like your friends who got scared and abandoned you."

Jack looked at her gratefully. "Thanks, Rose. That means a lot to me."

"I know it does." She leaned closer, whispering so that only he could hear, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Rose."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Thursday, September 30, 2004_

Rose was on her way to work when her cell phone rang. She quickly picked it up from where it lay on the passenger seat and answered it, hoping it was Jack.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rose."

"Jack!" She pulled to a stop at a red light. "How are you doing? Do you know when you'll be admitted to the hospital?"

"I'm supposed to be there around 4:30 this afternoon. Dr. Stellar made all the arrangements."

"Well, that's good, I guess. Were you able to drive yourself to your appointment?"

"No. I didn't feel up to it. Dad drove me and got some other teachers to cover for him. He's helping me get packed for the hospital right now. I was so tired when we got back from seeing Dr. Stellar that I just wanted to sleep for a few hours."

"How are you doing, Jack?" Rose asked. "I mean, how bad is the leukemia? Do you know?"

Jack was silent for a moment. "It's not good," he finally told her. "My white blood cell count is way too high, and they'll probably give me a blood transfusion as soon as I get there and start the chemotherapy tomorrow."

"Jack…" Rose shook her head. "Do you want me to come by after work? I promised I'd work a couple of hours extra tonight, but I might be able to get out of it…"

"I don't want you to put your job at risk for me. You already skipped one day when I passed out at school. Maybe you can come tomorrow night. Mom will be bringing my books then."

"Are you sure? Because I can try to get out of the extra hours…"

"They'll pretty much be getting me settled tonight, giving me the first medication. But if you can come tomorrow…Mom and Dad could give you a ride."

Rose thought for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"If you weren't working, you could come to the hospital with Dad and me this afternoon. But I don't want you to get into trouble. Go to work, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Rose sighed. "Okay, but if you want to call, I'll be getting off work at nine tonight."

"I'll probably be asleep by then, but…yeah, if I'm still awake, I'll call. I'm bringing my cell phone with me."

"I'll get your schoolwork from your teachers tomorrow…maybe we can work on the stuff for Mr. Carter and Mrs. Baldwin's classes together if you feel up to it."

"Yeah…I hope I feel up to it…it's hard to tell how I'll feel."

"I know…I'm going to come and see you as often as I can."

"Thanks. Rose…I'm going to make it through this. I know I am. I'm a survivor."

"Jack…" Rose's voice softened. "I hope you're right. I really hope you're right."

_Friday, October 1, 2004_

Jack sat up in his hospital bed, moving his pencil half-heartedly around a sheet of paper in his sketchbook. In about fifteen minutes, he'd be receiving his first round of IV chemotherapy, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

He had felt better for a while the day before, after undergoing leukepheresis, a procedure to reduce his white blood cell count, and after a blood transfusion. Later that evening, though, he had been given his first round of oral chemotherapy, and he'd been feeling queasy ever since. He was on a particularly strong regimen of chemotherapy this time, as this was his third bout of the disease and it became harder to treat each time.

Jack finally set the half-finished drawing aside and lay back, taking a deep breath to dispel a wave of nausea.

The person in the next bed, a young man named Tommy Ryan, grimaced and shook his head at him. "Why don't you just let it come up? You'll feel better."

Jack shook his head slightly and took another deep breath, willing his stomach to calm down. He'd be sick enough after the IV chemotherapy later; he wasn't going to let himself throw up right now if he could avoid it.

He glanced around at the other three patients in the room. All were young men like him; two were fellow cancer patients. The third, Richard Calvert, was waiting for a heart transplant.

Jack had been puzzled—in fact, was still puzzled—at Richard's presence in the oncology ward. Wouldn't he be better off in the ward with other heart patients, with cardiologists who were far more familiar with a case like his than an oncologist would be?

Jack had asked Richard why he was in the oncology ward, if his need for a new heart was because of cancer or severe side effects from cancer treatment, but Richard had fallen asleep before he could answer.

It had been Tommy Ryan, who had been best friends with Richard since kindergarten and was in the hospital for the treatment of the lymphoma he had been diagnosed with just a few weeks earlier, who had answered Jack's questions.

Richard and Tommy had both been born and raised in the town of Hinkley, California, a town made famous a few years earlier by a lawsuit put together by a woman named Erin Brockovich over contaminated water in the town. The water, contaminated by substance called hexavalent chromium, had been responsible for the unusually high cancer rate in the town over the years, and Tommy was sure that it was responsible for his cancer, too, as his family had moved to Hinkley just before he was born, and there had been no family history of cancer on either side, and yet his mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer just a few years earlier, when she was in her late thirties, and had survived, and now Tommy, at the age of twenty, had lymphoma.

Jack had listened sympathetically, but still hadn't understood what that had to do with Richard's presence in the oncology ward, but Tommy had gone on to tell him that he was sure that the damage to Richard's heart had been partially caused by his exposure to the contaminated water when he was growing up in Hinkley, even though Richard's cardiologist had said that his heart had been damaged by a virus contracted while he was in college.

Richard would normally have been placed in the cardiology ward, but his father, Dr. James Calvert, was an oncologist at the hospital at Loma Linda University and wanted to be able to keep a close eye on his son, and furthermore, Dr. Calvert had a long-standing rivalry with the head cardiologist and didn't quite trust him with his son.

Jack thought that Dr. Calvert's decision was amazingly irresponsible, especially since he had seen so many people die over the years, and thought that Richard should have been placed in the care of a cardiologist, no matter what kind of disagreements his father had with the head cardiologist, so that he would have the best possible care. Richard didn't seem to be suffering much because of the decision, though, and he and Tommy spent a lot of time commiserating over their illnesses, which seemed to keep both of them in better spirits. Jack had only been in the hospital with them for twenty-four hours, but he knew how much having a friend who understood what it was like to have a serious illness could help, so he hadn't said anything.

Jack sat back up, once again willing his stomach to stay calm and finding that sitting up straight helped a little. He looked for his sketchbook, then realized that the patient in the bed to the left of him, a young man named Fabrizio Di Rossi, had picked it up and was looking through it, stopping to admire some of the drawings.

Fabrizio was a few months younger than Jack; he had just turned eighteen when he was diagnosed with leukemia in mid-September, his first experience with the disease. He was a senior in high school, too, having been held back a year to learn English after his family had immigrated to the United States from Italy when he was ten years old, and was hoping to achieve remission quickly so he could go back to his school in Los Angeles.

Though Jack had known him for only a day, they were already becoming friends; their shared experience with the miseries of leukemia and cancer treatment had given them something in common, and the discovery that they had made that morning that they both found art fascinating had sealed their friendship.

"These are good, Jack." Fabrizio looked up from his perusal of the sketchbook when he noticed Jack watching him. There was only a trace of an accent in Fabrizio's voice; after several years in ELD classes tailored towards Spanish-speaking students, who were the majority of English learners in the schools Fabrizio had gone to, he could speak both English and Spanish with nearly as much fluency as he spoke Italian, and because he had begun learning the new languages at a young age, he could speak both with only a hint of an Italian accent.

Jack leaned over to see which drawing Fabrizio was looking at, glad for the distraction. It was a drawing of Rose done in colored pencil; he had made the drawing for art class just before he and Rose had gotten into the argument about his not telling her he had leukemia.

"That's my girlfriend, Rose," he told Fabrizio, pointing to the drawing.

"She's pretty."

"Yeah, and she's cool, too. She's sticking with me even though I've got leukemia."

"You're lucky," Tommy interjected. "My girlfriend visited me once after she found out I have cancer, and then she called and told me it wasn't going to work between us."

Jack nodded. "Some people just can't handle it when someone is really sick."

"I don't have a girlfriend," Fabrizio interjected. "There's a girl I like who's on the dance team, but she hardly knows I'm around, except she borrowed a pencil from me just before I had to come here, and she smiled at me then." He sighed. "She has blonde hair and blue eyes, and her name is Helga Dahl."

"You should ask her out when you get back to school," Jack told him. "You'll never know if she likes you back if you don't."

"Maybe," Fabrizio conceded. "After I get better and my hair grows back." He touched what remained of his once-thick black hair regretfully.

At that moment, a nurse walked into the room. "Jack Dawson?" she asked, consulting her clipboard.

"That's me." Jack paled, feeling more nauseous than ever at the very thought of the IV chemotherapy, which he had never been able to get through without getting sick, and which he had always found to be worst the first time around.

"I'm here to take you for chemo, just a few rooms away."

"I know." Jack got out of bed reluctantly, knowing that he needed the treatment, but dreading it all the same. With the possible exception of spinal taps, there were few things he disliked more about leukemia treatment than IV chemotherapy. "Fuck," he muttered, not as quietly as he intended.

"Not with that stuff," Richard interjected from his bed by the window, drawing snickers from the others.

Even Jack laughed a little. "Shut up," he told Richard, turning and following the nurse out of the room, more laughter following him as he left.

* * *

Jack's good humor faded when he followed the nurse into the room where patients were given IV chemotherapy. He was the only one there at the moment, for which he was glad. He didn't like having other people around during his chemo sessions—he hated getting sick in front of them, though many other patients went through the same thing.

He was quiet as the nurse got him settled in a chair and hooked up the bag containing the medicine, watching with dread as she attached it to the needle already in his arm and released the clip to allow the medicine to flow into his body.

"I'll be back to check on you in about fifteen minutes," she told him, making sure that the liquid was flowing properly from the bag.

Jack nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth at the moment. He winced at the burning sensation as the medicine began to flow into his arm, breathing deeply to try to control the overwhelming wave of nausea that hit him a few seconds later.

As he had expected, it didn't work. He clapped one hand over his mouth, the other groping blindly for the emesis basin that was always left beside him when he underwent this type of chemotherapy.

It wasn't there. Jack looked around in dismay as he realized that the nurse had forgotten to leave it for him, wondering if he could possibly control his rebellious stomach long enough to search the cabinets in the room for a basin, then realized he couldn't as his stomach heaved uncontrollably, again and again.

* * *

Rose sat in the back seat behind James and Lorraine, Jack's books stacked beside her. The Dawsons had waited until she got home from work to go to visit Jack, bringing her with them.

She thought about seeing him, hoping that he was feeling okay. He had called her the night before, sounding tired and miserable. They had only talked for a few minutes before she had let him go, since he had sounded like he was about to fall asleep while talking to her.

Rose fidgeted nervously with her necklace, wondering how bad the treatment for cancer really was. She had visited her grandmother when she had had breast cancer, but had never been allowed to visit while she was undergoing the harsher treatments.

Lorraine turned to look at Rose, noticing how quiet she was. "How are you doing, sweetie?" she asked.

"I'm okay," Rose told her. "I'm just worried about Jack, is all. He said the treatment was bad, but…how bad is it? Is it really that awful?"

"It really is," James responded, his eyes on the road. "Since he was undergoing IV chemo this afternoon, he's probably going to be feeling pretty miserable. He won't have much energy, and he'll probably be more interested in throwing up or sleeping than in anything else. Still, I think he'll be glad to know you're there, if only because it means you haven't abandoned him. He was a bit worried about that when I was driving him to the hospital yesterday."

"I won't abandon him," Rose said with conviction. "I'm going to stick with him through this, no matter what."

"Have you ever been close to someone with cancer before, Rose?" Lorraine wanted to know.

"Just my grandmother," Rose admitted, "and I wasn't allowed to see her when she was feeling really sick, but…I didn't try to avoid seeing her or anything. And," she added, "I'm not going to avoid Jack. I promised I'd stick with him, and I will. I love him—"

She clapped a hand over her mouth, her face turning red with embarrassment. She hadn't meant to blurt that out to Jack's parents.

James and Lorraine were silent for a moment, processing that bit of information. Finally, Lorraine turned back to Rose.

"I think he returns your feelings, Rose. He seems to feel very strongly about you."

"He said he did." Rose stopped, not wanting to discuss this with her boyfriend's parents. "Um…how much longer until we get there?"

"About another twenty minutes if we don't hit traffic." Lorraine decided not to pursue the subject of Rose's relationship with Jack, seeing how uncomfortable Rose was with discussing it with them. "I hope Jack appreciates his books. Trying to check them out for him was a trial, to say the least."

Rose was glad that Lorraine had decided not to discuss how she and Jack felt about each other. "Why? Were they out of some of them?"

"No…they had the books he needed, but that librarian…" Lorraine shook her head.

"Who? Miss Hulstrom? I always thought she was nice."

"The older one, with the short hair and bad temper?"

"Oh, that's Miss Coney. She's kind of mean. She'll yell at people, sometimes for nothing, and then she'll turn around and be really nice, and then she'll be mean again. She yelled at me once for asking Miss Hulstrom something, but then she was really nice when she wanted me to go to the office and get a box of paper for the library."

"Well, she was in a bad mood when I went to get Jack's books yesterday…she yelled at her assistant for telling her I was there, then got angry because I was in a hurry to get back to work and started slamming the books on the desk. I thought she was going to break something. I was late getting back to work because of her, but fortunately my boss was more understanding."

James turned the car down a freeway offramp. "We're almost there."

"Good." Rose brightened, looking forward to seeing Jack. "I'm glad I got off work an hour earlier than usual tonight—I was afraid I wouldn't be able to see him until tomorrow."

"Just remember that he probably won't be feeling very well, and he probably won't look too good, either. You can see him, but he'll probably be more alert tomorrow."

"I still want to see him, even if it's just for a few minutes. And now that I know the way to get to the hospital, I can come over after work to see him."

"That'll make him happy." James turned down another street, then turned into the hospital parking lot. "We're here."

Rose got out of the car, staggering under the weight of Jack's books. "I sure hope he appreciates these."

Lorraine and James hurried to take some of the books from her. "Well, we certainly won't ask him to try to lift all these at once," James remarked.

"Rose…" Lorraine began. "I just want you to be prepared. Cancer treatment takes a lot out of a person, and there may be times when Jack is too weak to get out bed by himself, or he'll fall asleep while talking to you, or he'll get sick in front of you. He can't control any of those things. He may also be feverish sometimes, from the chemotherapy or from the leukemia itself. His appearance might change, too—his hair might fall out, and he'll certainly lose weight, but at the same time, some of the drugs will cause his face to swell. It makes him look a little strange, to say the least."

Rose nodded. "He told me about some of those things…I'm going to come visit anyway."

"Just so you know what to expect."

"I'm okay, and I think Jack will be, too. He's a survivor."

"I hope you're right, Rose." Lorraine patted her shoulder. "I really hope he gets better."

* * *

A few minutes after they arrived, they were told that Jack was being brought back to his room after chemotherapy and they could go up to see him.

They arrived in his room just as Jack was being wheeled in on a gurney, too drained after chemotherapy to walk or even to sit in a wheelchair.

Rose stared in shock as two orderlies lifted Jack from the gurney and put him back in his bed. He looked awful—his face was deathly pale, and when one of the orderlies pointed to his visitors, he had to struggle to look up at them.

"Um…hi, Jack," she said, walking towards him, then stopped when she saw what was all over his shirt. She stopped, her face paling and a faintly queasy feeling coming to her throat, as she realized that he'd thrown up all over himself. "Oh…oh, gross!"

Rose turned and ran out of the room, almost colliding with the nurse's assistant who was coming to clean Jack up.

Lorraine looked at James and shook her head. "I'll go after her." She set her pile of books on the table and hurried from the room, following Rose.

James waited until the nurse's assistant had gotten Jack changed into clean clothes, then approached his son. "How are you doing, Jack?" He leaned close to him so Jack wouldn't have to make an effort to make himself heard.

Jack looked at his dad, looking more miserable than ever, then struggled to turn his head in the direction Rose had gone. "Ah…fuck," he mumbled.

Nobody made any remarks this time.

* * *

Lorraine caught up to Rose in a waiting area on the oncology floor. She was wiping her eyes and trying to calm herself when Lorraine sat down next to her.

"You weren't expecting that, I guess." Lorraine spoke to her, putting a comforting hand on Rose's shoulder.

Rose shook her head. "No. He looks so awful…like he's about to die." More tears started running down her face. "I'm sorry."

Lorraine handed her a tissue. "It's okay. The first time I saw him after chemotherapy, I kept a strong front until we left the hospital, then cried all the way home. He does look awful…but he isn't dying, and he should start feeling better in a few hours."

"Some girlfriend I am." Rose sniffed, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "I take one look at him, call him gross, and run off. I mean, he had puke all over him, but I've had stomach flu before, and I got airsick once…I've seen that kind of thing. But he just looks so…sick…"

"It's scary, isn't it?" Lorraine nodded, understanding what Rose was going through. "But the chemotherapy won't kill him, and you have to remember that it's actually helping him, no matter how bad it looks."

"I know." Rose took a deep, shuddering breath. "Do you think he'll be mad if I go back in and see him now?"

"I think it'll make him feel better if you go see him."

"Okay." Rose crumpled the tissue, looking resolute. "Let's go see him."

* * *

Jack was almost asleep when Lorraine and Rose returned, curled up on his side with an emesis basin not far away. He opened his eyes slowly when his mom touched his shoulder.

"Jack?"

"Hi, Mom." His eyes were drooping shut again when he caught sight of Rose. "Rose."

"Hi, Jack." Rose leaned closer, taking his hand and rubbing it gently. "I'm sorry I ran off like that," she whispered.

"'S okay…you came back." He wanted to say more, but he was exhausted, his eyes closing even as he tried to look at Rose again.

"Jack," Lorraine said, "we brought your books…when you're feeling up to it, you can study and do your schoolwork…and the tutor will be by on Monday."

"'Kay," Jack mumbled, nearly asleep again.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Jack," James promised, straightening and putting an arm around Lorraine.

Rose lingered a moment after the Dawsons left, still holding Jack's hand. "Good night, Jack," she whispered, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying after his parents.

The other patients in the room watched her go. "Do you think she'll be back?" Richard asked quietly.

"Five dollars says she doesn't come back," Tommy replied.

"She'll be back," Fabrizio assured the others. "She promised him she'd stick with him."

"Promises can disappear pretty quick when somebody's sick like that," Richard pointed out.

"So, are you in on the bet?" Tommy asked Fabrizio.

"Why not? Five dollars says she'll be back."

"Five dollars says she won't," Tommy countered.

"I'm with Tommy," Richard added.

Jack was barely aware of the betting going on around him. All he could think of as he fell into an exhausted sleep was Rose. She would be back, wouldn't she? She'd promised to stay with him.

He clung to that thought. _She'd promised_.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

_Friday, October 1, 2004_

Rose spent most of the night laying down in her bedroom after returning home from the hospital. She had gone through her classes like a ghost at school on Friday, and hardly felt like eating dinner that night, even though her mother had ordered a pizza.

The events of the hospital had certainly taken a toll on her…the image of Jack covered in vomit and deathly pale hit her like a ton of bricks. _He did tell me it was going to be bad, _she thought as she hugged her pillow to her chest, watching as the clock changed from 9:32 to 9:33. She felt even worse about having run out, calling him gross, even though she apologized later. That still didn't excuse her behavior.

There was a knock on her door after a while, and she groaned, not wanting to get up. She was only half watching one of her usual sitcoms, but she dragged her weary body to the floor anyway. Standing in the doorway was her mother, holding a tray with a plate of graham crackers and a cup of tea.

Rose sighed, not really wanting to talk to her mother at the moment.

"You didn't eat much at dinner tonight, Rose, so I brought you a little something." Ruth carried the tray into the room and set it on her daughter's bed. For a few moments, they stood staring at each other, and Ruth wet her lips. "Are you quite sure you're going to be all right?" she asked, and Rose sat down, nibbling on the edge of a graham cracker.

"I'll be fine," she said, giving her mother a fake smile.

Ruth sighed, sitting down on the bed, and encouraged Rose to join her. Immediately, the atmosphere changed, and Rose had a bad feeling she knew what was coming.

"Didn't I tell you dating Jack would be a bad idea?" Ruth asked once she got her bearings and Rose was facing her again. Rose set her mug of tea down, only having taken a sip, and glowered at her mother.

"I don't think you have the power to tell me who I can or can't love, Mom!" she retorted.

Ruth sighed. "Rose…" She held up her hand, trying to emphasize her point. "People like him…they're infested with diseases! I wasn't the least bit surprised when you told me he had cancer."

Rose glared. "My friends Meg and Jo aren't disease-infested, thank you!" she snapped. "Mom, you're unbelievable. Cancer is an illness common in all social classes…rich people get cancer, too. Not just the poor and middle class. I wish you'd stop judging people so much."

Ruth stared at her daughter. "Watch your tone," she warned, and Rose looked up.

"Mom, I really want to be alone right now," she said quietly. "I have to get up early for work tomorrow, and I just…" She took a deep breath. "Please, Mom."

Ruth looked at her sternly. "All right." She got up at last, and went to the door. Rose watched as her mother paused in the doorway, frowning at her. "Hearts are fragile," she began, "and I'm just worried about seeing yours broken." She turned to leave, and Rose fingered her lukewarm mug for a moment or two once her mother was out of earshot. She felt tears filling her eyes and had to set the mug aside to wipe them with the palms of her hands.

It was so hard to believe she was related to Ruth DeWitt Bukater, considering how narrow-minded the woman was. Rose didn't care about how much money her friends' families had, or what race they were.

Sniffing, Rose decided to get ready for bed, due to the fact that she had to be to work at nine the next morning. She had no idea how she was going to survive her eight-hour shift, especially with the cloud of Jack's chemotherapy treatments over her head.

She slipped into her nightshirt, went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, and then climbed into bed around ten. She lay staring into the darkness for quite some time, praying to God that Jack's life would be spared for a third time. She couldn't imagine losing him; he'd been a gift to her after the torturous relationship with Cal. _Jack is one of those boys who are a once in a lifetime find, _she thought, pulling her blankets closer to her chin.

It was 11:30 before she officially drifted off.

_Saturday, October 2, 2004_

The next morning, Rose woke at seven and hopped into the shower. She got dressed in jeans and a nice t-shirt, slipped into her sneakers, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and applied a little makeup to her face. She rushed downstairs by 7:45 and found her mother setting a plate with a bagel on it on the kitchen table.

"I'm not really hungry, Mom," Rose insisted, slumping into the chair, and Ruth looked at her.

"You don't get a lunch break until at least one, Rose. You have to put something into your stomach, or you'll pass out from all that heavy lifting."

Rose blew out her breath…she figured she might as well humor her mother, because she didn't want to leave on a sour note. She spread a light amount of cream cheese onto her bagel and ate as much as she could. After drinking a glass of orange juice, she said good-bye and dashed out the door around 8:15.

She arrived at Sam's club by 8:40 and bolted in just in time to be grabbed by Marietta.

"Thank God you're here early…we had two cashiers call out today, so we need you on register as quickly as possible."

Rose watched Annabelle and Susanna as they were furiously ringing up the lines of customers, who definitely looked agitated by the limited help available to them. Sam's Club technically didn't open until ten o'clock in the morning, but business owners had the right to come in between the hours of seven and ten to avoid the heavy traffic of regular member hours. This was the main reason for her being scheduled nine to five—some of her co-workers were scheduled from seven to three, or 6:30 to 2:30. It wasn't always busy that early in the morning, but it only really happened when they were short on help.

The front end was notorious for their employees to call out or not show up period, and it was getting a bit aggravating.

"All right," Rose promised, and ran upstairs to the break room. She passed by a few of her other co-workers from different departments and made sure to say hello to them. Everyone she worked with was very friendly, for the most part, and it hadn't taken long before she'd gotten to know most of them.

After putting her purse into her locker, she grabbed her red vest, slipped it on, and pinned her name tag to the pocket. It took barely five minutes to get all of this taken care of, and she was on register by exactly nine, and was put in one of the busiest sections of the front end.

Almost before she could turn her light on, she was serving customers. Ringing them up, as well as making sure to promote the Sam's Club credit card.

Normally, Rose didn't mind busy days, for it made the shifts go much faster. However, every other customer who came through her line seemed to have some issue or other. Either they brought items that didn't have price tags, complained about the belt being wet due to frozen groceries, or were upset because they couldn't find exactly what they were looking for.

Marietta even reprimanded Rose for missing three relatively important items underneath the carts, and thankfully the customers were honest enough to bring them back in to pay for them.

"What are you doing, Rose?" the manager asked, narrowing her eyes. "I usually never have to scold you for this type of thing! Come on, get your act together!"

Rose felt her throat choking up with tears, and it was very difficult not to break down right there. Just before Marietta was about to turn away, she was called by the door greeter. "Jesus, just a minute!" she cried, and after giving Rose an exasperated look, went towards the cry of distress.

Rose was grateful when her lunch break came, though it was almost an hour later than usual due to the volume of customers that particular Saturday. Rose was grateful the break room was empty when she came up, because she couldn't take it anymore. She sat down at one of the round white tables, buried her face in her arms, and let the tears fall.

For at least five minutes she cried, her shoulders shaking. _Why, Jack, why? _she thought as she took a deep breath, sniffling loudly. _Why does this have to happen to us? I've barely been dating you for two months!_

She didn't notice when Marietta came up the steps about fifteen minutes into her break, carrying a thick manila envelope to her chest. The manager stopped short of her employee, startled by this sudden attack of emotions from Rose. In the year and a half since she'd been working at Sam's, Marietta never once saw Rose lose it. In fact, Rose put up with a lot more crap from customers than most of the other employees, and she just took it like a rock normally.

"Rose?" Marietta set the folder down on one of the tables and then went to sit beside the girl. Rose immediately covered her face, embarrassed at having been caught in this state.

"I'm sorry," she apologized hoarsely, and accepted a napkin from the dispenser in front of her. Marietta put a hand on Rose's shoulder after she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, and encouraged her to talk about what was bothering her.

"Honey, I didn't mean to upset you earlier," Marietta promised. "I was just surprised, because you're usually on top of scanning. I was just trying to help you."

Rose shook her head, giving another sniff. "It's not you," she insisted, and Marietta looked relieved.

"What's wrong, then? Tell me, eh?"

Rose took a shaky breath. "My boyfriend just found out he has leukemia. He's in the hospital for chemotherapy treatments." She felt her eyes welling up again, and squeezed the napkin in her hands.

"Oh, God," Marietta breathed after a moment of awkward silence. "The cute blond one, right?"

Rose gave a soft chuckle; she wouldn't feel even remotely like this if Cal were in the same situation.

"Yeah," she replied. "He was in remission for three years, but the symptoms started coming back a few months ago." She gave her nose another blow, feeling a little weird talking about this with her boss. She'd never been particularly close to Marietta…in fact, she often thought of the front-end manager as being a bit of a bitch more often than not.

"Wow," Marietta breathed. "Rose, I'm really sorry. I appreciate your coming in today."

Rose shook her head, tossing her dirty napkins into the nearby trash can. "Well…I needed the money," she admitted, and Marietta chuckled.

"Is there anything I can do for you? Maybe send you home early or something?"

Rose gulped. "What?" she asked, checking her watch. It was 2:25, and she had three hours left of her shift. "I couldn't do that," she stuttered.

"You'll leave at four, all right?" Marietta asked.

"But…" Rose protested again, and Marietta narrowed her eyes.

"Four o'clock, and end of story."

Rose bit her lip, watching as her manager checked her watch. "Dammit…I have to get these to Danielle in the marketing office, and I'm running behind. You have five minutes, right?"

Rose nodded, watching as her boss disappeared through the small hallway connecting to the marketing office. She sat still for a few moments, having to pinch herself. Was Marietta actually being kind to her for a change? Did Marietta actually take the time to comfort her? Her boss rarely gave her the privilege of leaving early, even when the store was dead.

Rose managed a small smile, feeling more cheerful by the time her break came to an end. The rest of the shift went much more smoothly, and Rose was sent up to count down her till at 3:45. As she sat using the adding machine to count the money, she thought she would stop by and see Jack at the hospital after she left.

She called home to leave her mother a message, saying there was a possibility she wouldn't make it for dinner. Besides, Rose was still annoyed with her mother for being so arrogant the night before, and found herself clutching the steering wheel more tightly than was necessary when she drove in the direction of the hospital.

When she arrived, she went to the front desk, where the nurse signed her in.

"Go on up," the middle-aged woman told Rose with a smile, and Rose took the elevator. She got to Jack's room, peering in, and saw he was sitting up watching television. Fabrizio was the only other guy in the room, and he had a book in front of him.

Jack turned his head when Rose knocked and smiled at the sight of her, inviting her to enter.

"What are you doing here so early?" Jack asked quietly as she came to give him a hug and a kiss on the lips. Fabrizio grinned to himself, shutting the book and folding his arms.

"Tommy and Richard both owe me five dollars," he said smugly, and Rose blinked.

"Sorry?" she asked, and Jack rolled his eyes.

"The guys had a bet whether you would be back or not after yesterday."

Rose blushed furiously, knowing her behavior had been appalling.

"I insisted you would come back," Fabrizio told her, smiling. "You were just shocked and not used to what you saw."

Rose felt her heart swelling at the Italian boy's comment.

"Tommy and Richard are two minds that unfortunately think alike." Jack snorted.

"Where are they?" Rose asked, and Jack gestured towards the door.

"There was some checkers match going on in the common area, and Tommy's always up for a challenge," he replied, and Fabrizio nodded.

"And wherever Tommy goes, Richard sticks to him like glue. They grew up together, you know. They're so BFF it makes me sick sometimes."

Rose smirked. "What is it with guys and being sentimental?" she asked. "You cringe at it for some reason." She kept her arm around Jack's shoulders, burying her face against his hair.

He touched her cheek, smiling softly. "I think I'm pretty sentimental, don't you, Rose?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes, taking his cheeks into her palms.

"Of course you are," she replied in a cooing voice, and he stuck out his tongue. "How are you feeling today, Jack? You haven't gotten sick since I came in." _Of course, it's only been ten minutes, moron, _she told herself.

"I did throw up all morning," Jack groaned when she inquired how he was feeling. "I got the oral chemo at 8:30, and didn't stop vomiting until at least 12:45."

Fabrizio pointed at him. "I beat you by an hour and a half," he growled, and Rose giggled when Jack threw an extra pillow at him.

"And you're proud of that?" she teased, and Fabrizio shrugged.

"It's always a competition in here," Jack said.

For the next hour or so, Rose sat talking to Jack, telling him about school, work, and how she had plans to have a girl's night out with Joanna and Meg the following weekend.

"That should be fun," Jack told her. "Tell them I said hi when you see them."

She nodded. "I've gotten at least two or three phone calls from each asking how you were." She laughed, and he chuckled warmly.

"Joanna and I practically grew up together, so I'm not surprised," he said, and Rose felt her throat choking up again. She'd only been dating Jack for a month and a half, which was such a short time frame in the general scheme of things. He held her while she lay her head against his shoulder, clinging to him.

"Oh, Jack," she sobbed, and he rubbed her shoulders, reaching up to stroke her ponytail.

"It's going to be okay, Rose," he promised, kissing her temple. "I'm going to be fine."

Fabrizio bit his lip from where he sat, watching as Tommy and Richard eventually came in. The other guys stopped short at the sight of Rose, and Fabrizio held out his hand.

"Cough it up," he said, and Tommy raised an eyebrow as Rose stood to greet them.

"Well, I'll be damned," Richard muttered quietly, after shaking her hand, and hobbling over to his bed. He pulled out his wallet from his nightstand and slapped a five dollar bill into Fabrizio's hand. Tommy did the same, muttering "Bastard" afterwards.

"You guys don't know me very well at all," Rose said. "I would never abandon Jack. My shock doesn't last long."

Jack smiled at her, and she kissed him.

"How long has she been here?" Tommy asked, and Jack looked at him.

"About two hours."

Tommy nodded, clearly impressed, and slid into bed. "God, I feel like bloody shit."

"Need a basin?" Fabrizio asked, watching as Richard struggled to get comfortable against his pillows.

"I'm trying not to think about it," Tommy growled, and Jack grinned.

"You know it'll help if you just let it come up," he said, and Tommy gave his friend a murderous glare.

"How do I put up with this?" Richard asked a bit too loudly, and all three cancer patients turned to him as one. Three pillows came at his head, and he laughed after they fell to the floor.

* * *

Rose decided to stay until at least seven, which was a good two and a half hours since she arrived at the hospital.

"I wish you could stay longer," Jack whined, holding onto her hands after she got off of his bed, straightening her outfit once she let go of him.

"I wish I could, too," she replied. "Jack, this is killing me. I don't know how I make it through the day when I know you're like this."

Jack frowned, hearing the cracking in her voice, and he touched her arm.

"Rose," he began, "You have to be strong for me. It won't help to have both of us collapsing. I'm depending on you to be the strong one."

She sighed; that was definitely a lot of responsibility on her part, but she knew it was worth it.

"I'm trying," she whispered, and she kissed him again.

"Well, glad you came back," Tommy said once she prepared to leave and said her good-byes to Jack's roommates. "I was wrong about you."

She laughed. "You certainly were," she replied, and he grinned innocently. "It was good seeing you three again. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay? Hopefully for a few hours tomorrow."

Jack hugged her, and watched as she left, glancing over her shoulder towards the doorway window as she walked down the hall towards the elevator. When she was out of sight, he turned back to his friends, shaking his head.

"You're lucky," Richard breathed. "To have someone who cares that much for you."

Fabrizio and Tommy shared a nod.

"I definitely am," Jack insisted. "If it weren't for Rose, I don't know what I'd do." He watched as his friends settled into their evening routines, trying to concentrate on one of his drawings as he had been doing before.


End file.
